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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882053">On The Streets Of New York</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stan_of_many/pseuds/stan_of_many'>stan_of_many</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Broadway, Brotherly Love, Caring, Caring Jack Kelly, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is an angsty boy, Jack is the older brother, Musicals, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Responsibility, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whump, Worry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stan_of_many/pseuds/stan_of_many</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-canon fanfic that basically looks at events that turned Jack into the bitter dreamer but caring brother-figure he is in the musical as well as how he met several beloved characters. The focus is on Jack but other Newsies feature heavily. Lots of angsty Jack and sad and hurt Newsies, but if you know the musical then it's okay!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fully written fic that I will hopefully continue posting if I don't completely forget to because of school and all that. Just know that it's not because I'm writing or have writer's block or anything, I may just be lazy. As a note to keep in mind, the first seven or so chapters were written a few years before the other ones, so there may be a fairly big-ish change in the quality of the work after that (though tbh I'm not really sure because it's my work and I have no perspective on it).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>New York City, New York: 1993</p><p>“Take it Jackie I ain’t hungry.” The man’s stomach growled as he handed the chunk of bread to the small ten-year-old boy walking next to him down the wet pavement. The boy took it reluctantly but ate it hungrily as he struggled to keep up with the man’s pace. A piece of newspaper lay at the curb, wet, its ink running, the words of yesterday’s headline barely able to be made out. </p><p>    “Pa,” the boy looked up at the man, his blue eyes, eyes with the depth of one twice his age, searched out those of his father. “Pa, why’d dey fire you? Why’d the boss at da mill fire you?” His father coughed and shook his head,</p><p>   “Dey ain’t got no use for me anymore. If dey got no use for someone, dey throws him out.” He began coughing harder and harder, his body shaking with the effort. The boy took his hand as the man leaned on the wall for support.</p><p>  “Pa, you gonna be okay, right?” John Kelly pulled the boy close and knelt down so he could look into his son’s eyes.</p><p>  “Dis ain’t da life I wanted ta leave you wid.” He shook his head and fished something out of his pocket, handing it to his son. The boy studied it, a postcard, worn and tattered at the edges, with a painting of a lovely ranch overlooked by mountains in the background. The letters, printed in curly script in the upper corner of the postcard spelled out: Santa Fe. He looked up at his father, confused. The man smiled sadly, “Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was plannin’ on movin’ there with you when summer came again but…” He trailed away breathing in slowly before continuing, “Jack your old man ain’t gonna be around much longer. I only lived on dis here earth for thirty years and I ain’t gonna live here much more. I wish I was leavin’ you wid more.” He sighed as he stood up.</p><p>   “Pa, don worry ‘bout me. I can take care a' myself. You know I can.” The man’s eyes filled as he looked at his son. “Dem streets, they’ll kill you if you let 'em. They’ll kill you! They’ll kill you like dey did me.” They stood for a minute, rain dripping off their shoulders. The boy wiped his nose with his sleeve and carefully put the postcard in his pocket, drawing out another piece of paper in its place.</p><p>   “Pa, I—I pictured us today.” The man looked down and half smiled,</p><p>   “Did ya now? Let me see it.” Jack held out a piece of paper toward his father, who studied it gravely. The picture was rough, done with a burnt stick on an old piece of newspaper, but the figures were clear. A man and a boy sat side by side, the father’s arm wrapped protectively around his son’s shoulder.</p><p>    “I was gonna give it to ya later, but—but I wanted to give it to you now.” John Kelly nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and carefully folded it and put it in his pocket. The two continued down the street in silence, hunched over as if trying to shelter themselves from the rain under their ragged caps.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Theater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Medda is a queen and I love her. Also, Jack is very shy about his art.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1895 (2 Years Later)</p>
<p>The Harmony Theater</p>
<p>New York City, NY</p>
<p> “Hey you!” The woman grabbed the ear of the young thirteen-year-old hiding in the darkest corner of the theater. She was dressed in a garish pink dress covered in frills with a hat, roughly resembling a large green cake, to top off her outfit. The boy jumped up, more because the woman was hauling him by the ear than actual fright, and faced the angry woman. “No kids in Medda Larken’s theater that don’t pay. And you young man obviously didn’t pay. Now out with you!” The boy protested as the yanked him toward the exit,</p>
<p>   “Please Mrs! I—it’s cold outside and I thought I would get out of the wind a bit and I saw your be-yutiful theatre--” Medda Larken stopped,</p>
<p>    “Mrs.? Son, Old Medda ain’t no Mrs. and probably won’t never be.” She laughed, “but I sure do appreciate the compliment. You got a name?” The boy spit into his palm and held out his hand,</p>
<p>   “Jack Kelly. Mighty fine pleasure to meet you Ms Medda.” Medda gravely shook his hand,   “Well Mr. Jack Kelly, I like you. Its rare enough to find a nice polite youngster such as yo’self dese days, but I still ain’t gonna let you watch these shows for free. I got my livin’ to make same’s everyone.” She pinched his arm,  “and you’s strong so you won’t be totally worthless around here. I could use some sets moved downstairs after the show. You pay your ticket dat way.” She patted him on the back as a frenzied looking man rushed over to her.</p>
<p>   “Miss Medda, your number!”</p>
<p>    “Thank you Mr. Cohnihan, I know” She winked at Jack, “now you just find yourself a comfy spot and enjoy the rest of the show.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>   “Therrrree now, just—yes, set it down right there.” Medda laughed slightly sympathetically as Jack wiped his face with his hand as he set the box down. “Jist five more to go.”</p>
<p>   “What kinda stuff do ya keep in dese box’s Miz Medda? Rocks?” Medda laughed,</p>
<p>   “Now you just go on up there an’ finish up Jack Kelly.” He darted up the stairs, apparently not much the worse for the wear despite his complaining. Medda smiled then leaned over to pick up something on the ground. She held a folded piece of newsprint, smudged with charcoal and dirt.</p>
<p>   Jack plodded down the stairs, carefully balancing the last two boxes. “Thank you Jack, you paid your ticket for tonight. Come again soon, anytime you want to warm up. I have to say I found your company real enjoyable.”</p>
<p>   “I’ll be around soon Miz Medda, da show was wondaful.” Medda laughed,</p>
<p>   “Thank you,” she sighed, “the newspaper’s don’t seem to think so, but I ‘preciate it.” Jack turned to leave but Medda placed a hand on his shoulder, “Jis one more thing before you go Mr. Jack, I found this on the floor, did you do this?” She held out the charcoal and dirt stained newsprint toward the boy. His cheeks grew red and he grabbed the newsprint,</p>
<p>   “Yeh, it ain’t nothin. Nothin but a few scribbles of mine. I’d better go.” He turned away, crumpling the paper, but Medda stopped him again.</p>
<p>   “Jack! Do you realize how much talent you got? That ain’t scribbles, that there’s artwork.” She took the picture from him and smoothed it out. The drawing was quite smudged but the picture was clear and well done. Medda recognized herself, frilly costume, large cake hat and all, singing a solo. “I could use an artist around here you know. I need backgrounds for my shows.” Jack shrugged off her hand,</p>
<p>   “Naw, I couldn’t do it. It’s really nothing. I’ll be seein’ you round Miz Medda.” She watched as he climbed the stairs,</p>
<p>   “Jack Kelly, I ain’t gonna give up on it that easily! You jis watch, Medda ‘ll get her way sooner or later.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Cripple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I literally didn't want to wait to introduce Crutchie into the story because Jack and Crutchie is one of the sweetest friendships ever and it also leaves room for lots of worried and angsty moments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1895 (Several months later)</p>
<p>The Good Samaritan Salvation Center for Homeless Boys</p>
<p>New York City, New York</p>
<p>“Hey Crip. Dis here ain’t your spot. Get out.” Morris Delancy stood hands balled up into fists, glairing at a scrawny, tousle-haired boy of about eleven years old who was hurriedly but awkwardly getting to his feet.</p>
<p>   “Sorry, I didn’t—”</p>
<p>   “Maybe you didn’t hear me da firs time, I said, Get. Out.” Disregarding the boy’s obvious attempts to obey, Morris shoved him out of the way, knocking him off his feet. The sound of splintering wood and the sharp crack of the younger boy’s head against the floor loudly sounded throughout the room. Jack jumped up and made his way quickly toward the scene. His attention had been caught by the angry tone of the older boy and he had seen the cruel shove.</p>
<p>   “Now den Morris, dat there wasn’t so nice. You should apologize.” Morris gave a small laugh as Jack raised his voice and looked around, “I notice you never do dat to people your own size. Anybody else notice dat?” Some of the surrounding boys laughed as Morris’s face reddened. “Why not pick on someone closer to your own size? How come you don’t do dat huh? Oh I know why, because anyone like dat could lick da stuffin out a you. You wanna fight me Morris? Huh? I about your size.” Morris backed up and raised his hands slightly, protecting himself against Jack’s raised fists, but attempted a pathetic snarl,</p>
<p>   “I won’ fight you Jack Kelly, I ain’t got no bones wid you.” Jack and several of the other boys laughed at the lame excuse.</p>
<p>   “You won’ fight wid me Morris, you won fight wid no one den.” Jack lowered his fists, turned away from the bully, who flopped, relived, against the wall, and leaned over the younger boy. </p>
<p>   “Hey kid, you okay?” Jack could see the large bruise that was forming on the boy’s head, but despite the obvious pain the boy smiled up at him.</p>
<p>   “Yeh, I’m good. Don’ worry about it.”</p>
<p>   “Good.” Jack jerked his head toward the other side of the large room. “I sleep over dere, you can come by me if you wan’.” The room was The Good Samaritan Salvation Center, a place that provided the many of the city’s boys a small space to sleep at night. It wasn’t much but it was out of the wind. Jack reached his hand down to help him up, but for the first time realized the reason why the boy had been so clumsy to get up.</p>
<p>   “Hey whatsammater wid yo leg?” The leg was twisted in and back, the foot was at an odd angle. Jack suddenly noticed the splintered wood surrounding the boy, the pieces of what had obviously once been a rude crutch. “Was dis yours?” he questioned the boy. The boy nodded,</p>
<p>   “Yeh.” And his face fell a bit. Noticing this Jack began picking up the pieces and tried to put them back together with little success. He threw them down again,</p>
<p>   “Can’tcha walk widout it?” The boy gave a small laugh,</p>
<p>   “Well dat depends on whatcha mean by ‘walk.’” Jack smiled and put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, helping him up. </p>
<p>   “Never mind ‘bout dat. I’ll help ya. Da name’s Jack Kelly by da way. What dey call you kid?” The boy grinned shyly,</p>
<p>   “Crutchie.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Crutch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack bit his knuckles thoughtfully, staring at the young boy sitting across from him. “You sold papes before?” Crutchie half smiled in answer to Jack’s question,</p><p>  “Yeh. I’m a good seller.”</p><p>  “With dat mug and dat leg I believe it. You gotta sell loads of papes, how come you moved here den?” The younger boy’s face grew serious and he looked away slightly,</p><p>  “Well I used to sell over by Brooklyn, but…you know, dem Brooklyn boys is tough and some of dem wanted my spot and I can’t fight ‘em for it so…” He shrugged and then turned back toward Jack, “I thought maybe I could try over here.” His face brightened a bit, “Word is your boys ain’t quite so… pushy.” Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow,</p><p>  “Well, even our meanest boys look downright sweet compared to Brooklyn’s folks…” He grimaced,  “Anyways, you’ll be needin’ a new crutch. I’ll find ya one soons I can, meantime let's get some sleep and pray da headlines is good in the mornin’.”</p><p>   The two boys laid down and tried to find a somewhat comfortable position on which to lay on the wood floor. Soon after Crutchie’s eyes closed and his breathing grew deep and slow, though his leg twitched slightly from time to time. Jack however stared at the wall, frowning in thought. He knew of many people in the city, but who would be able to provide him with a crutch the right size for a small eleven year old cripple? </p><p>  He sighed, turned over, and adjusted his second shirt under his head, vainly trying to give his head a padding against the hard and cold of the wood floor. Would any of his acquaintances have a crutch? He sat up suddenly and rolled his eyes, smiling. It was a long shot but if anyone would have a crutch it would be Old Cross. He got quietly to his feet, first carefully placed his second shirt under the young cripple’s head and then silently made his way out of the building and on to the dark of the alleyway in back. </p><p>  He threaded his way quickly through the maze of streets, a maze he obviously knew like the back of his hand. He stopped outside of a dark window filled with what the average passerby would deem junk. The lettering on the window read: Pawn Shop. His eyes moved up from the main window and on to several of the smaller windows above. Through the thick curtains he could see a glimmer of light. With catlike agility Jack jumped onto the fire escape and ascended the three stories to the window. Leaning over he gave several sharp knocks on the lighted window. He grinned as he heard Old Cross’s grumbling and the shuffling of slippers. </p><p>  The old man’s head poked out of the window and he glared reprovingly at Jack.</p><p>  “Oh, it’s you young Jack. Well come’on in I suppose. You shouldn’ be out right now. Even a Newsie needs ta sleep sometime or another. What’cha doin’ out so late?” Jack grabbed the top of the window frame and swung himself easily through the window and into the dimly lit living quarters of his friend.</p><p>  “I could asked you da same thing Cross, what you doin’ up dis late?”</p><p>   “Non’ of your business you young scoundrel.” The old man pretended to cuff him, “So what’cha wantin’ at dis hour?” Jack sprawled himself comfortably into a dirty red armchair with the stuffing coming out the back.</p><p>   “Well I was wonderin’ if you happened to have a, a crutch somewheres round here.” Cross looked confused. </p><p>   “A crutch? I don think I would let no one pawn for a crutch, dem things don sell usually.” Jack sighed and made a move to get up, but Cross kept talking,  “What’chew wantin’ a crutch for? I know you didn’t break no bones or nothin because you didn’t bother comin in through the door like normal folks. No sir-ee, it’s the window for young Jack.” Jack grinned but his expression turned more serious,</p><p>   “Naw it’s not for me, its for a friend a mine. He got a bum leg and his other crutch got broke so I’m tryin’ to find him a new one. But if you don' got one then…” He trailed off.</p><p>   “Weeelll,” Cross thought for a minute, “weeelllll I jis might young Jack I jis might. Ya never know what I got in dis here dump, and I jis might recall one dat I got ‘bout a hundred years ago or so. But it sure aint gonna be some breezy spring day to find it.” The man gave a wheezy chuckle, “Yous got ta help me if you wan’ it.” </p><p>The two descended down five flights of steps into the basement of the building. “Well if it’s anywhere its gonna be in here. Lets get us some light.” Cross lit lantern that he had brought, and they both blinked. Jack gave a slight groan as he saw the piles of junk that lay strewn throughout the room. The old man laughed again, “No spring day, no spring day. Got all night kid?” Jack yelped as he tripped over a street broom lying across the floor and gazed ruefully at the hours of work ahead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Searching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We have this chapter and one more before we get to the main-ish story of this fanfic, where there probably won't be another time jump. Hang in there, this is still the part I wrote before coming back to it a few years later when my writing got a bit better</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack stifled a yawn as he dragged aside some unidentifiable metal objects and tossed them away as he wondered why in the world someone would keep so much junk. They had been looking for almost two hours and still had not looked through the whole room. He barely avoided impaling his hand on a sharp spike as he plunged his hand into another pile of junk.</p><p>   “Was dis ‘bout what you was thinkin’, Jack?” Old Cross was holding up a small, sturdy, wooden crutch. Though its paint was peeling and it was covered in spider webs Jack lept over several piles of junk and clutched at it as if it were solid gold.</p><p>  “Dis looks jis ‘bout right!” Cross gave a small chuckle,</p><p>   “Well I’m glad somebody in dis city got some use for it, ‘cause I certainly don’t.” Jack began brushing off the spider webs as the old man picked up the lantern and the two headed up the stairs. “You’d better go out da winder again because I ain’t in da mood ta go downstairs again an unlock da door.” Jack nodded absentmindedly as he ran his finger over the wood checking for splinters.</p><p>   “Yeh, sure.” He winced as a bit of wood punctured his hand, “One last favor Old Cross, you got any sandpaper?” Cross pointed across the room,</p><p>   “Yeah, over der. You fixin to sand dat thing tonight? Dat gonna take a long time young Jack and you need some sleep.” Jack grinned as he rubbed his eyes.</p><p>   “Aww, don worry ‘bout me Old Cross.” His face grew suddenly serious, “I’ll be over ta do some odd jobs or somethin’ later for da crutch...” Cross interrupted him, “‘Ey ‘ey Jack! You done me many a favor by chasin away dem vandal boys. Now you jis go on and give dat crutch to your friend, you don owe me nuti’n.”</p><p>   “Well…” Jack frowned but Cross waived him toward the window.</p><p>   “Now you up an get out, dis ol man Cross needs his sleep if he don wanna be cheated in da mornin. Good’bye  young Jack.” Jack clambered out of the window and onto the fire escape. His shadowy form was soon lost in the darkness, leaving Old Cross shaking his head after him. “Dat boy,” he muttered as he shuffled into his bedroom and blew out the lamp, “He’s a mighty fine specimen, he is.”</p><p>***</p><p>Two hours later and exhausted but satisfied Jack laid the now smooth and splinter-free crutch next to the young cripple and threw himself to the floor to catch the last thirty minutes of sleep before the bell rang.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Guys, after this chapter the angst begins to get real. </p><p>Also super not a fan of the end of this chapter, but again this was years ago that I wrote this part.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey Jack! Jack!” Jack could feel someone pinching his arm as he dragged himself out of sleep. “You fixin’ to sleep all day ya lazy? Or do ya need me to get’cha some water? Wassamater wid you, yous usually up before all of us.” They pinched harder.</p><p>  “Ow!” Jack swatted at the pincher, “Alright, alright, Henry, I’m up, you can stop da pinchin’!” With the word ‘pinchin’ Jack pinched the boy’s arm hard and sat up groggily. All across the dark room the forms of boys could be seen, each finishing up his short morning toilet consisting of not much more than putting on any articles of clothing that he had not worn throughout the night. Jack stood up, stretching, then suddenly yelped as he was poked in the back with a wooden stick.</p><p>   “Jack!”  Crutchie laughed at the older boy’s startled expression and waved his crutch, “Thanks!” Jack playfully swatted his new friend.</p><p>   “Don’ mention it.” He yawned and shoved his cap over his tousled hair, and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Com’on, les go see da headlines.”</p><p>   “’Ey! You see dat dere headline? We’re gonna make millions!” Henry threw his cap in the air and clapped Jack on the back. He noticed Crutchie for the first time. “Ey, whos dis?”</p><p>   “Dis? Oh dis here’s Crutchie. He come from Brooklyn, but he, uh, didn’t like it too much there.” Henry’s eyes widened,</p><p>   “’Ey, I don blame you for comin’ over here. Dat Spot Conlon, he’s…” Crutchie gave a small laugh,</p><p>   “Yeh.”</p><p>   “So where you gonna sell—” Henry was cut off as the gates were opened by Oscar and Morris Delancy. Jack leaned over,</p><p>   “Uh, I think I forgot to tell ya Crutchie but da kid you ran into last night, he works here…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this is sort of the beginning of the main story of this fanfic. I'm pretty sure this is still when I wrote it years ago and not more recently.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>New York City, New York<br/>1897 (two years later)</p><p>The rain poured down in sheets. It was the type of rain that had the habit of running into the most waterproof boots, let alone boots filled with holes. The newsies trudged miserably down toward The Good Samaritan, bags filled with wet newspapers.</p><p>   “’Ey Buttons, which d’ya think is worse?” Elmer said between teeth clench to stop their chattering, “dis here rain or da freezin’ snow?”</p><p>    “Awww, I don know,” Buttons scratched his ear and pulled his jacket tighter around his skinny shoulders, “Pro’ly da snow. It’s colder, ya know?” </p><p>    “Hey but you gets a lot wetter in da rain, so it’s colder in da end.” Finch coughed. “If yor wetter, yor colder.”</p><p>    “Naw,” Elmer threw his sodden papers into an alley way trash can with a loud and wet sounding thump. “Naw, by da end of da day yor just as wet in da snow as da rain. You jis get wet quicker in da rain.”</p><p>   Crutchie limped down the street with the other boys, Jack slogging slightly behind them. “Well fellas, in da snow you isn’t as wet as long, so da snow’s better. We can all look forward too da winter when it’ll be warmer.” He snorted sarcastically and threw his remaining papers in the garbage can.</p><p>   “Da winds worse in da winter.” Jack spoke for the first time in the conversation, saying his opinion as if it completely settled the matter and that it should make everyone as dismal as the weather. He sourly took the papers out of his bag and threw them in with an especially vicious thump. Elmer looked into the can and then back at Jack in exaggerated surprise.</p><p>   “Woah, even da famous ‘Jack Kelly’ couldn’t finish off his papes. Dis is truly a bad day to top all bad days. Did’yoo actually have ‘losses’ today Jack?”</p><p>   “Shut it Elmer.” Jack growled elbowing the boy aside, “if you know what’s good for you you’ll shut dat mouth.”</p><p>   “Awww come’on I was jis ribbin’ ya. Whatever happened to yor sense of humor?” He nudged Crutchie, “come’on Crutchie, you talk some sense inta him, yor da only one who can.” He ran down the street, holding on to his cap and hunched against the rain. Crutchie began slowly making his way after, as Jack followed behind.</p><p>   “Jack,” Crutchie looked behind himself.</p><p>   “Whut.”</p><p>   “Oh so yor gonna bit my head off now? Yous rude today ya know dat?”</p><p>   “Crutchie.”</p><p>   “What.”</p><p>   “Crutchie, it ever occur to you dat I might have things to worry ‘bout?” Crutchie snorted loudly,</p><p>   “Seriously Jack? You scared afta one bad day? Yous more stupid den I thought.”</p><p>   “No s’not dat. You ever think about what’s com’in soon? Like da winter?”</p><p>   “Aw come’on Jack, we’ve survived da winter before.” Crutchie’s face grew more serious as he saw his friend’s expression.</p><p>   “Yeh, well—oh forget about it! Forget I said nothing!” Jack sped up his pace, “You go’wan wid’out me, I gots things ta do.” He ran off, the opposite way down the street, disappearing into the heavy rain as Crutchie shook his head and limped toward the crumbling brick building that offered refuge from the storm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Gone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And so the angst begins.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Elmer! Elmer!”</p>
<p>   “Wassamatter Crutchie? If you gotta wake someone go wake up Jack.” Elmer turned over grumpily.</p>
<p>   “Elmer dats da matter. Jack ain’t here.”</p>
<p>   “So? Jack gots his own life. What am I, his babysitter?”</p>
<p>   “Elmer stop makin’ fun!” Elmer turned, annoyed, back to Crutchie.</p>
<p>   “What?”</p>
<p>   “Jack’s always back by mornin’. And he ain’t here.” Elmer sat up and rolled his eyes,</p>
<p>   “Crutchie don’ worry ‘bout Jack, he kin take care a’ hisself.” Crutchie sighed, and began to slowly get dressed.</p>
<p>   “’Ey! Wheres Jack?” Buttons scratched his head then pinched at it and squinted at his fingers. “Oh I got ‘im!” He flicked the bug away.</p>
<p>   “I dunno! I ain’t seen him since las night!” Crutchie sounded dejected.</p>
<p>   “Aw, he’ll turn up, Jack Kelly always lands on his feet.” But a shadow passed over Buttons’ face as it had, though Crutchie hadn’t noticed, over Elmer’s. The boys finished their toilet and made their way to the distribution gates, shivering in the freezing, autumn air. As they made their way into the courtyard they could see Wisel across the courtyard, talking with the Delancy brothers. He looked up as he saw the boys coming in and cracked a wide, yellow-toothed grin.</p>
<p>   “Hey dere boyyyys.” He dragged out the word ‘boys’ in a way that made them all uncomfortable. “You lookin’ for your friend?”</p>
<p>   “You got him?” Race stepped forward threateningly, but Elmer, uncharacteristically, held him back. Wisel laughed,</p>
<p>   “Your friend was found yesterday pinchin’ lots of nice clothes from some clotheslines near here. Dey was pretty nice ones apparently, all warm and wooly…perfect some a’ his friends for winter.” With the word winter, he shoved his finger into Race’s face and laughed again, “So naw, I don’t got him. Snyder gots him now, your friend Jack gets a sentence in da refuge.”</p>
<p>   As he said ‘refuge’ chaos broke out amongst the boys, each loudly trying to get his own voice heard in his indignation. Wisel walked back to the papers and stood between the Delancy brothers who seemed to almost be body-guarding him. All three grinned nastily. </p>
<p>   “Ey! Shut up everyone!” The boys quieted down and looked at Race who stood on a stack of papers, “What I want to know,” he looked around then turned toward Wisel, “What I want to know is how Weasel knows all dis.” The boys loudly agreed,</p>
<p>   “Yeah Weasel!”</p>
<p>   “How’dwe know yous not lyin’?” Wisel smiled again,</p>
<p>   “You don’t.” He shrugged, “Papes for da Newsies!” The boys sullenly lined up, grumbling angrily.</p>
<p>   “Please Mr. Wisel,” Crutchie placed a nickel on the table, “How do you know dey locked Jack up?” Wisel looked down at the young cripple and his face softened slightly,</p>
<p>   “I saw dem do it wid my own eyes.” He gave Crutchie a sheaf of papers, “Now come on kid, I ain’t got all day.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 6 Months</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which I introduce a non-canon Newsie...who is rather important to Jack's character arc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Back so soon Kelly?” Sneider leered at Jack as he roughly dragged rather than walked him through the old building. “But I knew you would be back, I can always sniff out the troublemakers. I have a spot reserved just for you.”</p><p>  He shoved Jack into a dusky, musty smelling room. It was lined with bunks, stacked two and three high, with little space between them and only a thin pathway through the middle of the room. The windows near the ceiling had iron bars which did much to keep the occupants of the room in, but little to keep the cold out. Many of the shadowy figures that could be seen in the beds sat shivering in their threadbare shirts or fighting over the few light blankets. </p><p>  The number of boys in the comparatively small room was not immediately obvious at first. The dim light hid many of the shapes that were squeezed together, three to a bed. Sneider tore the handcuffs off the boy and retreated back into the hall, shutting the door behind him with a dull clang. A few of the boys stared, disinterestedly at Jack as he slowly made his way toward the back of the room. He clenched his fists as he walked, ignoring the vermin scuttling across the floor, away from his feet.</p><p>   “Dere ain’t no room in dis bunk.” The boy growled at Jack as he looked up at the top bunk, the last bed in the room. Jack looked around and then back at the boy,</p><p>   “You fellas only got two. Everyone else got three. There's room.” He climbed up the shaky bed, carefully feeling out which boards would hold his weight. As his head came up, the other occupant of the bed made a startled noise.</p><p>   “Jack? Jack Kelly? What’chew doin' here again?” Jack peered into the dark corner,</p><p>   “Bean?” Jack gave a bitter laugh,  “I could ask the same of you, but I can probably figger it out.” The other boy curled his lip,</p><p>   “Loitering. Again! Five weeks in da refuge for loitering!”</p><p>Jack shook his head as he climbed into the bed and leaned awkwardly against the window.</p><p>   “It’s ‘bout da money ya know. Sneider only cares how much he makes. He don care if he ruins our lives while he do it.” He clenched his fist and turned toward the window. Bean started to answer, but suddenly began coughing uncontrollably, his body shaking with the effort. Jack turned back toward his friend,</p><p>   “You okay?” Bean nodded as the coughing subsided,</p><p>    “Yeh. Is jist, ya know, it ain’t exactly…troplical in here.”  He grinned, unaware of his mispronunciation. “So, how long you going to be gracing us wid your presence dis time?” Jack’s face darkened and his jaw tightened, he turned away again.</p><p>   “Six months.” There was a moment of silence, then Bean punched him gently on the shoulder,</p><p>   “ ‘ay, you tough. You’ll be fine. Don’ worry”</p><p>   “It’s not me I’m worried about!” Jack slammed his fist against the wall, “I know I’ll be okay! It’s them! Some a’ them, they, they won last out there, not in da winter! Not on what theys makin’ sellin’ a few papes every day! An’ I’m stuck here! Sittin in da refuge. And I can’t do nothin’, NOTHIN’ ‘bout it.” His head drooped into his hands as he sat his shoulders slumped dejectedly. The silence lasted more than a minute this time until Jack looked up again. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his eyes roughly, his hands smearing dirt streaks onto his face. Bean shook his head than cocked it suddenly,</p><p>   “Jack, can’tcha escape?” </p><p>Jack snorted,</p><p>    “You got mush for brains? Escape from here?”</p><p>   “No, really. If anyone could escape it's you, Jack Kelly.” He gave a small laugh, “If you escaped from da refuge think how famous you’d be. You’d be a legend!”</p><p>   “You sure got an awful lot ‘a confidance in a guy who can’t even swipe an old rag of a shirt wid’out bein’ caught and thrown in here ta rot.” Jack’s tone was bitter.</p><p>   “Why?” Bean smiled slyly, “You denyin that you can do it?”</p><p>   “Yeah.” </p><p>Bean looked slightly disappointed,</p><p>   “Shoot. I was hopin’ your ego would get the better of ya.” Jack glared at him. Bean held up his hands as if to block the glare, “I’m just sayin', if an opportunity comes, you should take it. And you should also go lookin' for da opportunities.” He shivered and began coughing again. Jack smiled wryly at his friend and then frowned.</p><p>   “Here take my blanket.” Bean began to shake his head than seemed to think better of it as his small frame shook violently. He obediently took the blanket hunching close and wrapping it around himself. With Bean and the other occupant of the bed already laying down there was not enough room for another to stretch out, but Jack didn’t care. He shifted himself with his back against the bunk railing, his eyes straying out the window to the street below. Bean’s wheezing breath slowed as he fell asleep, unconsciously moving closer to Jack in an effort to warm up. Jack glanced at his friend’s face and then back out the window,</p><p>   “Six months.” He muttered, his face twisted in an expression of loneliness and worry. He leaned his head against the wall and bit his thumbnail as he watched the twilight turn to dusk and the dusk to night. He shivered and finally turned his face away from the window as the bitter air whistled through the cracks in the broken pane of glass. “Anything could happen to dem in six months. I gotta get outa here somehow.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. What Brothers Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ya'll this isn't even near the worst of the angst...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you think you could possibly get any closer?” Lankey snapped sarcastically, “Cause I’m thinking I got a little too much room over here.”</p><p>  “Shut it smart mouth.” Jack glared at the boy “Ain’t none of us in mansions over here. You gots da same ‘mount a room as me and Bean so quit whining’.”</p><p>  “Shut it yourself.” Lankey muttered, but Jack was bigger than he was so he went back to his former amusement. It was a game that he found quite absorbing apparently, which concerned flicking little pebbles through the broken window and trying to land them on passersby. Occasionally he flicked them at other boys in other beds, but as he noticed that it tended to cause enmity (they didn’t appreciate the bruises, and he was locked up with them) he did it very rarely.</p><p>    Jack absentmindedly traced his finger along the wood of the bunk railing. He admired the grain, the rough pattern of lines and swirls with the occasional knot in the plank. On the other side Bean shivered as he watched Lankey's antics, giving the occasional snicker when Lankey gave an especially well-aimed flick. </p><p>   "Jees, you got him good!" Lankey twisted his lips into a smirk as a bespectacled boy looked up at the window, annoyed. Lankey raised an eyebrow at Bean,</p><p>   "It's an art." His expression changed as he looked back out the window. Bean leaned over and looked out, frowning. </p><p>   "He's comin' up the fire escape. I'm pretty sure he didn't appreciate dat stone Lank." Lankley shrugged, pretending not to care. </p><p>   "He can't do nothin when I'm locked up in here." He looked back down at the head that was quickly approaching the window, "he's crazy for coming near da refuge like dis though." He put on a tough expression as the boy's face rose into the window. "What'chew wantin?" The boy adjusted a bent and obviously very worn pair of spectacles. </p><p>    "Do you fellas know Jack Kelly? Is he in dere somewheres?" As the boy asked the question Jack started and, before either of the boys could answer, shoved them unceremoniously aside. </p><p>    "Specs!" The bespectacled boy's face broke into a smile. </p><p>    "Jack! I’m glad I found ya." His expression sobered, "you okay in dere?" Jack gave him a half-grin,</p><p>   "Yeh, I’m fine. Whatdja think? Dat I need you all to babysit me or somethin’? I can take care a myself.” Specs took the defensive,</p><p>    “Hey, you jis went an’ got dragged off in da dead of night and we didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout it ‘till Weasel tol’ us a few days ago. And da refuge ain’t a pretty place anyway.”</p><p>   “Calm it hotshot,” Jack rolled his eyes, “I was jokin’. But yeh, you can tell all of them I’m fine. How's you guys?" Specs shrugged, </p><p>    "We is doin alright. Race an’ Elmer was fightin’ over who’d get your spot while you was gone.” Jack snorted,</p><p>   “Yeh? Who won da rights?” Specs laughed,</p><p>   “Well, dey had to call it a draw after dey half kilt each other, so’s we agreed ta let Crutchie have it for a while. But Crutchie didn’t wanna move, says you gave him your spot before and he wasn't gonna go and take another one from you and anyway he liked his a lot, so’s we drew names out of a hat and Buttons got it. An’ Buttons says to tell ya dat he wouldn’ mind if’in you stayed in dere for da rest of da year now." Jack smirked,</p><p>   “Yeah? Well tell him that it really don’ matter how good da spot is, he ain’t gonna sell nothin’ dere ‘cause he’s real lousy at sellin’ papes.” Specs laughed,</p><p>    “Ya think we didn already tell ‘im dat? Anyways, I told dem dey was stupid for fightin’ ‘bout it ‘cause you’d be back dere soon enough anyway.” Jack glanced briefly away. Specs, noticing, leaned forward.</p><p>   “Wassamatter Jack?” </p><p>   “Nothin’”</p><p>   “No really Jack, you gotta tell say.” <br/>Jack turned back toward the boy,</p><p>  “It’s nothin’! Jis... jis dat I got six months. Snyder gave me six months in here.” Specs eyes widened,</p><p>   “Six months! For what? Dat spider!” <br/>Jack raised his eyebrows,</p><p>  “‘Ey I like dat one. Sneider da Spider. Suits his truly winning poisonality and it even rhymes, or somethin’.”</p><p>   “But Jack,” Specs was not to be deterred, “Jack, yeh can’t stay in dere for six months!” Jack’s tone turned bitter,</p><p>   “Who’s givin’ me da choice, Specs? Answer me dat before you go’wan bout how I can’t stay here!”</p><p>   “Jack!” Specs stuck his face into the crack, “You kiddin’ me right? You seriously ain’t thought of escapin’ yet?” Jack gave Specs an annoyed look,</p><p>   “And be on da run for, what, da next seven years till I growed a beard an Sneider won’t recognize me?” Specs snorted and took off his spectacles to polish them with his grimy shirt.</p><p>   “He arrests us for loitering if he catches a glimpse of us. We’s pretty much always on da run anyway. Won’ change much if you ‘scape.” He fitted his glasses back over his nose and blinked owlishly at him. Jack laughed and then groaned, leaning his head against the window.</p><p>   “Even if’in I did think I’d be worth it, s’not like escapin’ gonna be a breeze.” This time Specs laughed out loud.</p><p>   “I ain’t even gonna answer dat Jack. I’ll jis let you go’wan and think ‘bout it.” He winked at Jack and then gave a startled exclamation, “Oh! I ‘most forgot.” He looked around and then down at the bag at his side. “Jees Crutchie would’a killed me!”  He reached into the bag, "Crutchie thought you might want some a your stuff." He brought out a crumpled packet of paper, assorted sizes and kinds, and a rough charcoal pencil and shoved it through the crack in the window. Jack’s face lit up as he saw it and he carefully put it aside, smoothing it out gently as he did so.</p><p>    “Tell Crutchie thanks for me.” Specs nodded and went back to rummaging in his bag, flipping through, Jack noticed with a stab of worry, several unsold papers.</p><p>   "Crutchie wanted to come visit you but we told him it was too far, specially at da end of da day after he's been on his feet for a while. Plus he couldn’a climbed up so's he wrote you a note." Specs snatched a grubby piece of paper from the bag and poked it through. Jack took the note, looked at it for a long moment his, jaw tightening, and then looked back up at Specs.</p><p>   “Specs, do me a favor, an’ wouldja…well, yous da closest to him an’… It would be great if you could…” Specs flicked his hand as if waving Jack’s words away and grinned,</p><p>   “S’okay. I’ll keep a good eye on him for ya. An’ I’ll tell da others too. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to him well you’s gone. When you comes back though… dats anoder story.” He grinned and began climbing back down the fire escape.</p><p>   “Thanks Specs.” Jack called softly after him, “thanks a lot.” Specs touched his cap up toward his friend,</p><p>   “S’what what brothers do.” He leapt softly to the ground and ran off, giving a last salute before disappearing around the corner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. On My Honor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What do you guys think of my OC Bean?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shut up would ya? I’m tryin’ ta sleep here.” Jack turned savagely toward the dark corner of the room,</p><p>   “How about you shut up, huh? Can’t you tell he can’t help it?” Bean grabbed his friend’s arm as Jack made a move toward the other boy’s bed. </p><p>   “It’s okay Jack,” He coughed harshly, “I’ll try ta stop.” </p><p>   “You shouldn’t have to!” Jack had turned on the smaller boy and was practically yelling at him, “It’s not your fault! None of this is your fault!” His voice broke as Bean’s coughing became worse. “No--sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Bean tried to respond but the violent hacking swallowed his words. Jack leaned toward his friend, unsure of how to help the boy as his small frame was wracked with coughs. He settled on placing his hand gently on his friend’s back as the younger boy struggled for air, and frowned, knowing the heat radiating from his body was not good. “Here, maybe the fresh air will help if you get closer ta da window.” Bean could do nothing but nod as Jack helped him over to the window and awkwardly patted his back as the coughing fit finally subsided. A sheen of sweat covered the boy’s pale face and he began to shiver in the freezing air. </p><p>   “Thanks Jackie.” He managed between his chattering teeth. Jack waved his words away,</p><p>   “It’s nothin’.” He helped the boy back to the warmer spot and wrapped a second blanket around him. Bean tried to push it away, </p><p>   “Dat’s your blanket!” Jack knocked the protesting hand away,</p><p>   “Take it, I’m not cold.” Gooseflesh prickled his skin but he ignored it. Bean was too exhausted to argue as Jack took his friend’s ice cold hand and began chafing it between his own. </p><p>   “Jack?” </p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “You wanna tell me about Santa Fe again?” A half smile crossed Jack’s face,</p><p>   “You wanna hear about Santa Fe eh?” Bean nodded,</p><p>   “It’s warm there isn’t it?” Jack laughed,</p><p>   “Heck yeah it’s warm! So warm there dat they gives you a bedroll at nights but half da time ya sleep on top of it. ‘Course the days ya do sleep in it ya gotta check for rattlesnakes but that’s just part of da job. But most night’s you sleep on top of da blanket with nothin’ but the clear sky above and miles and miles a’ stars.” Bean grinned,</p><p>   “I heared once that people find pictures in the stars.” He murmured. Jack nodded sagely,</p><p>   “There’s tons of pictures in the stars! You can find almost anything, animals and people and all kinds a’ stuff! I never see’d them before,” He admitted, “But you and me, we’ll find them together.” </p><p>   “We’ll be there together?” Bean asked, a bit of doubt creeping into his voice. Jack’s tone turned hard, </p><p>   “Course we will. We’ll all be there, you, an’ me, an’ Crutchie, an’ Spec’s, an’ Henry, an’ Buttons, an’, well, all of us! Nobody’s left behind.” Bean’s gaze shifted away and Jack, correctly interpreting the glance, grabbed his shoulder, forcing his friend’s eyes back to his face. “You’re gonna make it there. On my honor.” </p><p>   “Jack--” </p><p>   “Shut up Bean, I swear you will. You only got a couple more days in here and then I’ll get Specs or someone ta find you somewhere warm for a while--” He was rambling and Bean tried to interrupt him,</p><p>   “Jack, but--” Jack plowed on,</p><p>   “And you’ll stay there for a while and then we’ll all get to Santa Fe and da fresh air’ll take dat cough away and you’ll be good as new--”</p><p>   “Jack listen I--” Bean attempted interrupt his friend a second time but Jack turned on him savagely,</p><p>   “No you listen! You listen to me real good Bean, listen real good, ya hear?” Bean gave up and nodded as Jack poked a finger at him. “You’s only got two days left in here right?” Bean nodded. “Two days is practically nothin’. You’ll be out in no time and we’ll find you somewhere to get as good as new. ‘Cause we’s going to Santa Fe altogether, ya hear? All together!” Jack turned away sharply and Bean pretended not to notice the rough hand brushed across the watering eyes. </p><p>The two boys sat in silence for a little while until Bean reached out and gently punched Jack’s shoulder.  </p><p>   “How about you tell me more.” Jack turned back a little sheepishly. </p><p>   “Alright well, in Santa Fe…”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. I Promised</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm very sorry about this...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The greyish light filtered through the broken, barred windows the next morning, the most light the musty refuge ever saw. Most of the boys were engaged in various pastimes trying to make the lagging time go faster. Few noticed the two huddled figures in the back. </p><p>Jack watched his friend anxiously as Bean labored through another breath. </p><p>   “Come on Bean, you got this. Let’s have another one.” The boy gasped again, the air whistling through his lungs. He shivered violently, though covered with both his own and Jack’s thin blankets and Jack could feel the unnatural heat radiating from the sick boy’s body. He shook his head, focusing on the more pressing issue of helping the boy breath and encouraged him, “Good job, come on, another one” Bean grasped his friend’s hand and squeezed it hard as he struggled to fill his lungs again and again. </p><p>   “Santa...Fe…tell me...” The effort of speaking was much more intense than before and Jack nodded, panicky.</p><p>   “Santa Fe, yeah, let me tell you about it, it’s all warm and green and clean, fresh air and cattle--” His words were cut off as by the choking, gagging cough of his friend as his body attempted to get rid of the thick mucus coating his lungs. </p><p>The coughing was worse than ever before and Jack’s heart constricted at the sound, his hands shaking as patted his friend’s back. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re fine Bean, totally fine” He was unaware of the rising volume of his voice as other boys began circling curiously around the two boys, “you’re gonna be fine Bean, just fine…” The younger boy struggled for air, his fight, so determined at first, grew weaker and Jack’s tone grew louder and more panicky as Bean’s lips turned faintly blue. “Just fine Bean, I swear, I swear on my honor you will make it out, just take another breath, please Bean, please, just one more, come on” He was practically screaming at the boy, “Please, please, please, I swear Bean, you’ll make it, we’re going to Santa Fe!” </p><p>He was cradling the younger boy in his arms, talking to him frantically as Bean went limp, his face faintly blue from the lack of oxygen that his lungs were unable to breathe. Jack’s screaming turned into wild sobs as he held the limp form of the boy close. </p><p>They sat like that for several minutes as Jack’s sobs became the only sound in the room. </p><p>After a few minutes, his sobbing began to die down. Another boy crawled up the bed and gently placed a hand against the younger boy’s chest. Feeling no beat he placed his ear against him and listened for several seconds. He sat up looking grave, and shook his head, his features painted with sadness. </p><p>Jack turned away as the boy closed Bean’s eyes and climbed slowly down the bed, thoughtfully motioning for the other boys to disperse. </p><p>Jack’s chest was heaving as he laid his friend down on the bed that they had shared for the past several weeks. He used one of the blankets to pillow the lolling head, covering his body with the other one, and brushed the hair away from the cold face. He made no attempt to stop the tears that dripped down on the still form as his empty, unfulfilled promises to his friend echoed through his mind.  </p><p>  “I promised, on my honor. We were gonna go to Santa Fe.”</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. A Chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just in case you were worried, I am not going to just gloss over Jack's grief, but sometimes life has a way of not letting you have a moment just when you need it most.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rest of the day passed in a daze. A ruffian was called into the room to dispose of the body. Jack barely gave him a glance as the man dragged the body of his friend off the bed and threw it none-too-gently over his shoulder. Jack stared out the window, shivering but refusing to touch the blankets that had only the night before covered his friend. Night came, then day, then night again, and so four days passed, the boy barely noticing the time going by. </p><p>On the fourth day a sudden, unusual commotion at the front of the room snapped him rudely out of his dazed grief as one of the ruffians who guarded the prison called through the room. </p><p>  “Mr. Roosevelt is a’ comin’ ta visit da refuge. I’m takin’ one or two of the healthiest of you rats to show off to ‘im, show how well we takes care of ya!” He walked through the bunks of boys and stopped at Jack, “You boy! You look sturdy, you’re comin’ with me.” Jack stared at him blankly and the ruffian laughed, “You should consider it an honor boy, you’re meetin’ his highness Mayor Roosevelt himself” He grabbed Jack roughly by the arm and nearly pulled him off of the bed until the boy scrambled down, barely understanding what the man wanted. The ruffian leaned into his face, close enough that the boy could smell his rancid breath. “Listen here boy, you’re goin’ to tell Mr. Roosivelt that this is the best here juvie in da city. And if you give him any false impressions,” He leaned even closer, “you’ll pay. Understand?” Jack nodded, too exhausted with the recent events to offer any of his usual snark as he was roughly pulled out of the musty room and into the foyer of the jail. </p><p>A large, hard-looking woman grabbed him and roughly washed his face and exposed extremities. She bundled him unceremoniously into a cleaner pair of clothes before shoving him into the clutches of Snyder. The manager of the jail, nervous about the upcoming visit, was less attentive than usual. </p><p>He wiped his thin face with a handkerchief, glancing down the street before jumping back at the sight of a large carriage. His boney hand grabbed Jack by the back of the neck and he hissed some sort of warning into his ear. Jack nodded absently, eyes on the open door and the roomy carriage that had just pulled up. </p><p>The suggestion that had come from both Bean and Specs echoed in his ears, “Why don’t you escape?”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Roosevelt at the Refuge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mayor Roosevelt came into the jail with pomp, though perhaps slightly more humility than was to be expected per his reputation. Snyder eagerly shook his hand and with little prompting from the Mayor, began to explain the workings of the jail, the vileness (according to him) of the boys that it housed, and the great sacrifice he made as a servant to society. The mayor looked less than impressed with Snyder’s self-praise, but frowned at Jack as Snyder showed him off as a specimen of the undeserving boys that were housed in the prison</p><p>At any other time, Jack might have cared, but he hardly listened to Snyder’s words as he looked for all the options of escape. Luck was with him. </p><p>Snyder had dismissed all who usually hung around near the front of the jail, guards and all, to properly welcome the mayor. He was so preoccupied with keeping the mayor from the true conditions of the refuge that he spared barely a thought for Jack as he ushered Roosevelt into his private office. Jack took the golden opportunity and ran with it.</p><p>He stealthily crept to the door, and, nimbly avoiding the rather unattentive footmen, slipped into the roomy backseat of the carriage. </p><p>As soon as he had slipped in, he realized the dilemma he should have thought of before: Roosevelt would also be sitting in the backseat. There was no possible way the Mayor wouldn’t notice a boy sitting across from him.</p><p>Jack swore quietly as he scanned the inside of the carriage, noticing that Roosevelt and Snyder had come out of the office and were heading back outside. With frantic desperation, he leapt over the backseat and pressed himself into the small gap between the seatback and the wall. </p><p>It was a very tight fit, Jack lay flattened, his head turned at an uncomfortable angle to fit in the narrow space and for once he was glad of the meager rations in the refuge that had caused him to lose several pounds making him even skinnier than before. Jack recognized the baritone voice of the Mayor as the two men walked closer to the carriage, </p><p>“Mr. Snyder this is simply a visit for the Newspapers as I run for office, but let me tell you that it will not be simply that when I come back as the Governer.” Snyder chuckled nervously,</p><p>“Of course Mr. Roosevelt, of course.” The door opened and Roosevelt grunted as he hoisted himself into the carriage. Jack bit back a gasp of pain as Roosevelt leaned back in his seat with a sigh, pressing the air out of the boy’s lungs. </p><p>With a loud “Hya!” The driver cracked his whip and the carriage left the jail. </p><p>Jack was free.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Brooklyn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I honestly love this storyline so much. What's the whole deal with Brooklyn in the musical? Well, here you go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ride through the city in the carriage of Theodore Roosevelt himself was an opportunity Jack could only have dreamed of before, but under the circumstances, he wasn’t enjoying himself. The jolting movement of the carriage over the cobblestones left him an even more uncomfortable position than before. </p><p>Besides the obvious discomfort, however, the thrill of leaving the jail had been quickly followed by a familiar stab of worry as Jack shivered in the whistling winter wind that sped through the cracks. How were the other Newsies holding up without him? </p><p>The ride lasted for fifteen minutes, an eternity for the stowaway in the back, his entire body screaming in protest at the cramped position he was forced to assume. He breathed a sigh of relief as the Mayor left the carriage at the next stop and within two minutes had quietly slipped away, stretching his aching muscles and reveling in his freedom. </p><p>He glanced around and swore quietly under his breath as his eye caught a street sign in the evening light, letting him know his whereabouts. </p><p>He was in Brooklyn, home of Spot Conlon and his gang, the roughest Newsies in the city. The Brooklyn boys didn’t like other Newsies in their territory for any reason at all and chose to assume that anyone wandering through was a "spot stealer". Spot encouraged them to pounce on any boy stupid enough to try to sell there, or even walk through their territory, and ‘teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget’. Some of the Manhattan newsies had been beaten up badly by Brooklyn before, and Jack, though confident in his ability to take on any one of them individually, wasn’t so confident with his chances against a large group. </p><p>He walked several blocks, lost in worries about his friends but keeping a lookout for the hostile boys. Loud cries from a nearby alley jerked him out of his reverie and he stopped in his tracks. Turning sharply to cross the street away from what was no doubt some boy being ‘taught a lesson’ he suddenly saw a form push a limping figure out of the alley and onto the sidewalk,  trying to get him out of the brawl. Jack sucked in his breath as he recognized the two figures and dashed across the street, nearly knocking Crutchie over as Specs rushed back into the alley without noticing him. </p><p>   “JACK!” A wide smile split Crutchie’s face but Jack’s face was one of concern as he noticed the shiny black eye and scratches that covered the boy’s face. </p><p>   “Crutchie, what happened ta you? What’s going on?” He questioned urgently. But Crutchie was jubilant to see his friend,</p><p>   “Jack, I thought ya had six months!” </p><p>   “I did, but Crutchie--” </p><p>   “You escaped?!”</p><p>   “Yes, but--”</p><p>   “How?” </p><p>   “It’s complicated--” </p><p>   “How’d you escape, Jack?” Crutchie would not be dissuaded. </p><p>   “On the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage,” He waved away the younger boy’s astonishment and grabbed him by the shoulder’s, “Crutchie! You have to tell me what’s happening!” Crutchie’s face fell as he glanced at the alley, </p><p>   “I was walkin’ through Brooklyn ta get somethin’ an’, well... ya know how da Brooklyn boys are....” He trailed away as Jack’s face darkened,</p><p>   “Spot let them jump you? But you’re--” He gestured to the boy’s leg angrily as Crutchie gave a small laugh,</p><p>   “Yeh, well, I shoulda knowed better, I guess. Some a’ the other guys heard me yellin’ and came over ta help, but they's kinda gettin’ the worst of the fight...” Jack deliberately released his hands from the fists that he had unconsciously formed, </p><p>   “Spot let them jump a crip.” He muttered to himself, his eyes flashing and brows drawn, “That’s too far.” He turned to Crutchie, “Stay here.”  He turned and walked purposefully into the alley.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Spot Conlon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alley was chaos. Three individual fights were taking place, most of them two against one for Brooklyn. The muscles in Jack’s jaw tightened as he noticed the dark bruises that were swelling on the faces of his friends. He clenched his teeth as he noticed Spot at the other end of the alley, observing the fights with a smirk on his face, leaning easily against the wall. </p><p>   “Spot Conlon!” He yelled across the alley. The cries of the fighting boys died away suddenly as they noticed him, but he barely heard the joyful whispers of the Manhattan Newsies and confused ones from Brooklyn as he walked toward the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. Spot raised an eyebrow,</p><p>   “Well, well, well, it’s da man himself. Jack Kelly.” he stood up, “word had it you was in the refuge for a while.” Jack shrugged with feigned indifference, </p><p>   “Didn’t suit my fancy. I got outa there.” There were gasps from the other boys and even Spot couldn’t hide a look of mild surprise,</p><p>   “You escaped.” </p><p>   “As a matter of fact, I did. In the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage.” Spot raised both eyebrows and several of the boys whistled. Jack raised his hand to quiet the low whispers that swept through the alley. “But that ain’t what I came here for, Conlon.” </p><p>   “Is that so?” Jack smiled humorlessly at Spot’s air of unconcern, </p><p>   “Word has it that your boys jumped Crutchie.” Spot smirked,</p><p>   “The crip? He was a spot stealer.” Jack’s smile tightened dangerously</p><p>   “You know he wasn’t makin’ to steal anythin’.” Spot shrugged,</p><p>   “He was on my turf without my say, Kelly.” </p><p>   “So you told your boys to jump him.” Jack’s tone was strained. Spot laughed easily and turned away, but Jack grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. In an instant the entire alleyway of boys jumped toward them, the Brooklyn newsies scrambling to get Jack, Manhattan trying to protect him. Spot held his hands up,</p><p>   “Enough!” The boys fell back, “This here is an argument between Kelly and myself. I don’ want none--ya hear? None a’ you involved.” Jack nodded at the questioning look of his own friends, confirming Spot’s words. He leaned toward the boy, eyes flashing,</p><p>   “Spot Conlon. Everyone knows I don’ agree with your methods. Jumpin’ one boy with five guys ain’t honorable.” Spot’s eyes narrowed and he roughly shrugged his shoulder out from under his grip as Jack continued, voice shaking with controlled anger. “but jumpin’ a cripple who can’t fend for himself, well, I won’t stand for that.” Spot laughed derisively, </p><p>   “Let’s get one thing straight here, Kelly. The pavement you’s standin’ on right now? Dat’s Brooklyn pavement, and I don’t think you get’s to decide what you will and won't stand for on Brooklyn pavement.” It was Jack’s turn to narrow his eyes as he stared the boy down, </p><p>   “Is dat so? I’m pretty sure I get a say, whenever and wherever my boys is involved. And that includes in Brooklyn.” A muscle was twitching in near Spot’s eye as he glared at Jack dangerously, measuring his next words.</p><p>   “I say, Jack Kelly” He spat out the name, “that we settle this. Right here. Right now. Once and for all. Just the two of us.” Jack’s hands were balled into fists but he barely had time to nod agreement before Spot poured his fury into a punch toward his opponent's face. A cry went up from the Manhattan Newsies as the fist made sickening contact with Jack’s nose, forcing the boy to stumble backward. </p><p>   “Foul!” </p><p>   “Cheat!”</p><p>   “He started before Jack was ready!” </p><p>   “He ain’t fightin’ honorable!”</p><p>Even the Brooklyn Newsies winced at the blood that began pouring down Jack’s face, but true to Jack and Spot’s instructions, neither group interceded. <br/>Jack staggered back, reeling dizzily from the blow, and seeing stars. He could feel the warm, sticky blood oozing from his nose and heard the gasps of his friends as he dazedly wiped it away. Spot pushed his advantage, landing a few more blows to his midsection, causing his opponent to double over, clutching his stomach. </p><p>The Manhattan boys were silent, their fear increasing as they watched Jack being beaten by the other boy. </p><p>With growing fury at Spot’s treatment of his friends and the humiliation of his increasing injuries, Jack forced himself upright and took on a defensive stance, knocking away Spot’s next attack. Surprised at the sudden rallying of his enemy, Spot was pushed slightly off-balance for a moment, just enough for his opponent to take charge. Jack threw a well-aimed punch and connected solidly with Spot’s eye, giving the other boy a turn to reel away dizzily.</p><p>The Manhattan Newsies, catching on to the fact that the fight was not lost yet, began cheering, while the Brooklyn boys began to realize the fight would not be so easy for their leader as they had thought. </p><p>Jack took on the offensive, connecting quite solidly with an uppercut to Spot’s chin before dancing around his opponent and grabbing him in a forceful headlock. The Manhattan Newsies cheered at what looked like the end of the fight but with a sudden gasp of pain, Jack’s hold loosened as Spot kicked him forcefully in the shins. Pressing the moment of weakness, Spot spun around, headbutting Jack in the face to the great pain of both parties. They separated for a moment, groaning with the impact, but quickly rushed back toward each other, eager to end the fight as the victor. They locked in a strange embrace as each boy struggled to gain an advantage. The Newsies leaned in silently, watching their leaders as, for a long moment, neither gained the upper hand. </p><p>A clear voice sliced the intensity suddenly as Crutchie came limping urgently down the alley,</p><p>   “The police are coming!” </p><p>The effect of his words was instantaneous, as the shrill sound of a police whistle pierced the air. The two fighting boys broke away, sparing not a glance toward each other and Newsies stumbled into one another in their rush to get away. </p><p>   “Specs!” Jack grabbed the boy as he ran past, “Specs get Crutchie, I...I can’t.” Specs nodded, panicky, and dashed toward the young cripple, practically throwing him over his shoulder and dashed away. </p><p>Jack ran from the now empty alleyway, limping painfully and wiping at the blood still pouring thickly down his face. He stumbled dizzily away, the adrenaline from the fight wearing off and the effect of his injuries taking hold. He saw Specs and Crutchie duck into a small hiding place behind some shrubs about a block away and pushed his protesting body toward it. His sight was blurry and black dots began covering his vision as he stumbled into the small hiding space, falling onto his friends and barely registering Crutchie’s quiet exclamation before sinking into unconsciousness.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Only Option</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I did not really do much research into the fight and its symptoms and repercussions, so if it doesn't make sense maybe give me some willing suspension of disbelief?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is he alright?” </p><p>   “Well, he’s breathin’ that’s somethin’.” </p><p>   “Dang, well at least Spot Conlon looks just as bad.” </p><p>   “Just as bad? Spot looks much worse!” </p><p>   “Well if we’re bein’ honest Buttons, the fight was a tie.” </p><p>   “Well, all I know is after dat I ain’t never goin’ near Brooklyn again.” </p><p>   “Are you sure he’s alright?” </p><p>   “Don’t worry Crutchie, Jack’s a tough one. He’s been through worse.”</p><p>   “He really don’t look so good though.”  </p><p>The voices dribbled through the blackness, distant at first but growing gradually more clear. Jack could feel a wet rag cleaning the blood gently off of his face and heard the worried conversations of his friends. At Crutchie’s worried tone he dragged his eyes open, hoping to reassure his friend.</p><p>   “Crutchie look! He’s awake!” He could see Crutchie’s indistinct form lean over him in excitement,</p><p>   “Jack!” The pain hit suddenly as the sunlight shone on his face and came in sickening waves. He moaned and put his hand to his head, screwing his eyes closed again. The pain receded slightly as he blocked the light out, putting a hand over his eyes. Crutchie’s tone was anxious, “What hurts Jack?” Jack repressed another moan of pain and made an effort to calm his friend with a pathetic attempt at a sarcastic tone,</p><p>   “Calm it hotshot, my head…” The pain came back twofold as he moved his head slightly and waves of nausea swept over him. His stomach flipped sickeningly at the slight movement and he gagged. He felt one of the other boys rush behind him and haul him up, yelling, </p><p>   “Get somethin’!” Another familiar figure held something under his mouth as he gagged again and vomited what little contents had previously occupied his stomach. His stomach contracted and he dry heaved for several seconds before leaning back weakly with a groan.</p><p>A gentle hand brushed across his face and he dimly recognized Medda Larken’s flowery dressing gown as she placed a wet rag across his eyes. Her rich voice seemed distant as she spoke with his friends and he heard the words</p><p>   “...concussion...be alright in a day or so…you can stay here with him if you want...” Before sinking back into unconsciousness.  </p><p>***</p><p>Jack awoke the second time to the sound of snoring. Opening his eyes carefully to test the pain, he was pleasantly surprised to find only a small ache instead of the head-splitting nausea. He looked around the room and saw the grey light of early morning creeping through a window. He recognized the upper room backstage at The Harmony Theatre, ancient set-pieces cluttered around in the corners. Around the bed lay several sleeping figures. He sat up restlessly and stretched, then glanced at a figure that was stirring at the foot of his bed. </p><p>   “Jack?” The figure whispered sleepily.</p><p>   “Crutchie?” </p><p>   “Jack!” Crutchie whispered jubilantly,  “You’re awake again!” The whispered tone turned worried, “How do you feel?” <br/>Jack grinned sheepishly, </p><p>   “I feel fine. Lots better anyways.” The younger boy sighed in relief,</p><p>   “Dat’s good. We was kinda worried when you woke up da last time. Medda said she thought you’d be okay though.” Jack smiled wryly, </p><p>   “Well I’ll try not ta puke all over you again.” He gently punched Crutchie’s shoulder. His friend smiled but winced slightly at Jack’s touch. Jack stiffened, then pulled up the sleeve to reveal a large purplish-black bruise. Crutchie pulled his arm away hastily and rolled the sleeve back down, purposely avoiding Jack’s gaze. </p><p>   “Was that from Brooklyn too?” Jack’s voice was low but several of the other sleeping figures began to stir as he questioned the younger boy, “Was it?” </p><p>   “Jack, it’s not a problem.” Crutchie protested helplessly.</p><p>   “Yes, Crutchie, it is. I’ve stood aside and watched Spot Conlon beat up kids for way too long, but hurting you,” His voice broke slightly from contained anger, “you can’t even walk!” </p><p>   “Ay!” Crutchie was indignant. Jack gave a small, humorless laugh,</p><p>   “Well, you can walk a little.” His face grew dark again, “That was too far. I’m goin’ back as soon’s I can.” Crutchie’s face grew pale,</p><p>   “Jack. No. Nothin’ good will come out of another fight.” </p><p>   “I’ve got to Crutchie, I gotta let Spot Conlon know it ain’t okay, what he and his boys is doin’.” Crutchie’s voice grew uncharacteristically hard,</p><p>   “Yeh? And how’d that work yesterday? All that happened is you and Spot beat each other to a pulp--” </p><p>   “Spot looked worse!” Jack protested, Crutchie waved away his words,</p><p>   “Yeh he did, he’s prolly laid up same as you. But it was all for nothin’, you ain’t settle anything, you both got hurt, an’ we almost got arrested! Is it worth it Jack? Is it worth goin’ back to the refuge?” His voice had grown quiet as Jack sucked in an involuntary breath at the mention of the jail. His shoulders slumped,</p><p>   “But I can’t keep lettin’ him do that to ya, to anyone! I gotta teach him a lesson he won’t forget. Then he won’t do it anymore.” His voice was unsure, almost pleading. Crutchie grinned slightly,</p><p>   “Is that the only option?”</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. I Ain't Kidding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You really escaped from the refuge Jack?” </p><p>   “Ain’t he standin’ right here, Mush? ‘Course he escaped, ya think Snyder woulda let him go five months early?” </p><p>   “Mush will believe anything though, he even believes all da headlines I use ta sell da papes.”</p><p>   “Hey you take dat back, I ain’t dumb.”  </p><p>   “Calm it Mush and Albert, take it outside if ya have to!”</p><p>   “Aw, he’s lyin’ about Teddy Roosevelt though, I’ll bet my cigar.” </p><p>   “No he ain’t, I heard from someone that Roosevelt offered him a ride personally.” </p><p>   “Personally? Teddy Roosevelt? Dat’s the funniest thing I ever heard!” </p><p>The rumors were flying thick and fast in a small corner of The Good Samaritan as Jack sat back, grinning, and thoroughly enjoying the legendary status the escape had thrust on him.</p><p>   “You think that’s funny because it ain’t true Elmer,” He interrupted, jabbing an elbow at the boy, “The truth is I got into the carriage and when Teddy came along I offered him a ride.” <br/>Race choked with laughter,</p><p>  “Only Jack Kelly would offer Teddy Roosevelt a ride in his own carriage!” He howled with glee. The atmosphere in the Manhattan Newsies corner was joyful. Jack was back from the refuge five months early, having escaped legendarily in the back of the carriage of Theodore Roosevelt himself. He had had a never-to-be-forgotten fight with the terrifying leader of the Brooklyn gang and had left his opponent just as badly off if not worse. He had been at the very brink of death (the stories from Race told of Jack screaming in agony, eyes rolling back in his head, and Medda discussing possible amputation of limbs) and rallied, coming back almost as good as ever if a bit thinner and more bruised. </p><p>As the night progressed, the stories of Jack’s escapades grew more and more wild until, in the middle of a heavily detailed description of Teddy Roosevelt offering him a job as the vice-governor, Jack noticed Crutchie snoring gently against the wall. He cut off his sentence and yawned loudly,</p><p>   “Alright fellas, time to hit the sack.” The boys groaned in disappointment,</p><p>   “Come on Jack!”</p><p>   “Finish the story at least, Kelly!” Jack stretched hugely,</p><p>   “Naw, I gotta get my beauty sleep so’s I can visit Brooklyn tomorrow. Anyone wanna join me?” The boys' faces froze at the mention of Brooklyn and there was silence for a long moment. Then Race’s face broke into a huge grin,</p><p>   “Aw he’s pullin’ our legs aintcha Jack?” Jack clapped his friend on the shoulder,</p><p>   “No I ain’t kiddin’ Race. I’m visiting Brooklyn tomorrow.” He looked around at the stunned faces of his friends. “Anyone wanna come?” There was another moment of silence before Albert voiced the thought they were all thinking,</p><p>   “You got a death wish pal?” Jack kept the tone of casual bravado, </p><p>   “Maybe.” He shrugged, “But that ain’t why I’m goin’. I’m gonna sort things out with Spot. Once and for all this time. And if you fellows don’t wanna come, I’ll go myself.” The boys looked around at each other, each willing someone else to volunteer to go. Jack ignored the awkward moment with another huge yawn, “Well, I’ll be leavin’ for Brooklyn after I finish my papes tomorrow, I’ll see you fellas back here.” He took off his button-down shirt and threw it down on his normal sleeping spot, unhooking his suspenders and shaking out his thin blanket before laying down with his cap over his eyes, leaving his friends to exchange awkward glances of confusion.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Looking For A Rematch?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really liked writing this chapter. Also, if you love Spot Conlon and didn't like that I made him an adversary, this chapter is for you ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The strange feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with his errand, Jack assured himself as he balled up his empty newspaper bag and stuffed it into his pocket, directing his reluctant feet toward Brooklyn. It was the same feeling he normally got when he couldn’t scrounge up anything to eat midday, it was perfectly normal. </p><p>All the same, he found himself dawdling even more than usual as he made his way through the city, pausing to pet a stray, look into a store window, and flirt with a pretty girl--</p><p>   “Hey beautiful, you look like you’ve got somethin’ botherin’ you. Any favors you’ll be needin’ from this handsome young gentleman who is more than happy to assist you?” The girl gave him a tight-lipped smile,</p><p>  “Unless I wanted to scare myself by looking at your face, I don’t think you can help me. Good evening.” Jack would normally have been scarcely daunted by her rejection but with a groan he remembered his errand and repressed the urge to chase after her retreating figure. </p><p>All too soon he arrived at Brooklyn, pausing to give a halfhearted grin to his reflection in a window before stepping into Spot’s territory. </p><p>Wandering the streets aimlessly, it took less than fifteen minutes for several of the larger Brooklyn Newsies to find him. </p><p>   “Hey!” One of the boys shouted at him from down the street, “Ain’t you Jack Kelly?” Jack nodded cockily at them,</p><p>   “The man himself!” They circled around him, leaning in threateningly. </p><p>   “What’chu doin’ here?” Jack put up his hands in a slightly mocking manner, </p><p>   “Easy hotshots, I ain’t stealin’ anything, I just wanted to see Spot Conlon.” Their faces darkened and the biggest one spoke gruffly,</p><p>   “And what if Spot don’ wanna see you?” Jack laughed easily,</p><p>   “He does.” </p><p>   “What’s goin’ on Slink?” Spot’s voice broke into the conversation as he crossed the street toward the gathering. The boys opened up their circle to let him see the visitor.  His eyes narrowed as he saw Jack, and Jack’s barely repressed a smile at the sight of the boy’s badly bruised face. </p><p>   “Kelly.”</p><p>   “Spot.” Jack leaned against the wall. </p><p>   “Lookin’ for a rematch?” </p><p>   “Not exactly.” </p><p>   “Looks like you’re tryin’ ta steal a spot then.” Spot sneered. </p><p>   “Nope.” Jack examined his fingernails casually as Spot crossed his arms,</p><p>   “What’d you come here for Kelly?” It was more of a statement than a question, “I know you came here for somethin’ and you came without a bodyguard which ain’t usual. And so I ain’t settin’ my boys on you just yet. But spit it out quick before I change my mind.” Jack looked up from the intense examination of his nail beds, his face growing dark,</p><p>   “Spot. You and your boys beat up a crip, my crip. I ain’t okay with that. In fact, I ain’t okay wid you beatin’ up any of my boys.” Spot raised an eyebrow and smirked,</p><p>   “So ya are here for a rematch.” </p><p>   “No, I ain’t.” Jack’s tone was hard, “I ain’t here for a rematch Spot, because look what happened with the first one. We both got beaten to a pulp, our boys got beat up too.” Spot uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists,</p><p>   “An’ what’s keepin’ me and my boys from givin’ you a lesson right now that’ll leave you so whupped you don’t dare ta come back and bargain with me again?” <br/>Jack’s stance remained relaxed but he looked at the boy with an odd expression,</p><p>   “You ever been to the refuge Conlon?” Spot was taken aback by the unexpected question but gave a curt nod. Jack laughed wryly, “Yeh, you have. It ain’t a pretty place, is it? Do you like seein’ your boys get thrown in there?” He didn’t stop to let the boy answer, “I know I don’t like seein’ one of mine get arrested any more than I like it myself.” He gave a dry laugh, “But look what happened the other day! The whole lot of us almost got thrown into that stinkin’ place! Yeah, I know I know,” He waved away the objection, “We got away alright that time, but mark my words Spot Conlon, one of these days there’ll be a fight, and your boys and my boys alike will both get caught and thrown into the refuge to rot. And whose fault will it be then?” </p><p>His words hung in the air as Spot stared at him stoically, arms crossed. “And you know, Conlon, why the refuge, the jail for us homeless boys is so rotten?” Jack’s tone was growing steadily more forceful, “Why nobody catches Snyder cheatin’ us on food and lettin’ us live in da freezin’ cold, three boys to a bed? Why boys die in that stinkin’ place an’ nobody gives a damn? Ever thought about why that’s the case? Well, let me enlighten ya. It's because we--all of us Newsies--we’re the gutter rats of the city. We exist only because nobody can help us existin’, but there ain’t nobody that likes havin’ us around. The people who run this city, they think we’re no better than animals, and ya know what Spot Conlon, if we fight with each other, if we tear each other the pieces, if we beat each other up for no reason, then maybe, just maybe, we deserve that title. Animals. Is that what we are?” </p><p>The gazes of the two boys met, Spot’s face stoically unreadable, Jack, flushed with the passion of his words. There was a long moment of silence, until with a shrug, Jack’s demeanor changed back into the easy form he had used before and he glanced back at his nails, flicking the dirt out from under them. “The decision’s yours, Spot. Do we keep things the way they are now, fighting and beating up each other until all of us is rotting in a cell where we belong? Or do we end it now, each of us respecting the burrough territories, not stealing spots or beating people up; you an’ me keepin’ our own boys in line and takin’ responsibility? What’dya say?” </p><p>Spot stared silently at Jack for another long moment, seemingly studying his face for signs of mocking, but his expression remained impassive. Several of the other boys shifted uncomfortably, watching the balance of power shift between the two boys. </p><p>Finally, deliberately, Spot uncrossed his arms and spit forcefully into his right palm. </p><p>   “Alright, Kelly.” He held out his hand, “You got yourself a deal.” Jack spit into his own palm and clasped the offered hand heartily, giving him a wide grin, </p><p>   “An’ my boys thought they’d have to scrape my remains off your street. Looks like ya got a heart after all.” Spot’s face twisted into a half-smile,</p><p>   “You’d better leave while I still haven’t changed my mind.” Jack laughed and clapped him on the shoulder,</p><p>   “I’ll be seein’ you around Conlon.” He turned toward home, lighthearted with his success, but was stayed as Spot called after him,</p><p>   “And Kelly!” He turned back toward the boy, with a questioning glance,</p><p>   “Yeah?” Spot nodded towards him,</p><p>   “Ya got brains Kelly. I can respect that.” Jack gave him a cocky half-smile that turned quickly into a full grin as he turned and walked back down the street toward Manhattan.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Please Mr. Newspaper Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit of a long one-shot before we get into another storyline. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Extra! Extra! Terrifying lion escapes from circus and mauls four people!” Several coins clinked into Jack’s palm as he distributed the evening newspapers to the interested pedestrians. </p><p>   “Thank you kindly Miss.” Grinning at the brisk business he flipped the coins and stowed them in his pocket. With a start, he looked down suddenly as he felt someone pull on his shirt. </p><p>   “Please Mr. Newspaper man?” A little girl stared up at him, face streaked with tears. He knelt down,</p><p>   “Uh, hey...do you...what do you need?” Her lower lip trembled and she grasped her dirty skirt tightly in her small hands, shivering in the cold wind. Though not of the highest quality, her dress was not the clothing of orphans and newsies but rather of the lower class shopkeepers, Jack knew she did not live on the streets. He quickly took off his jacket, wrapping it around her, and ignoring the bitter wind that stung his body and biting his lip in agitation as two tears dropped from her eyes, “No no no, don’t cry little girl.” He clumsily wiped the tears from her face with his sleeve, “What’s the matter?” She sniffed, her mouth still trembling,</p><p>   “I don’t know where I am.” </p><p>   “You're lost?” She nodded.</p><p>   “How old are you?” With a shy smile she held up six fingers, “You’re six?” She nodded silently. “Well,” Jack mused, “I guess we need to get ya home somehow.”  Two more tears trickled down her cheeks, “Hey what’s the matter now?” He questioned gently. </p><p>   “I’m hungry.” </p><p>   “Oh. Well...we can find somethin’ for that I think.” he took her hand, “Come with me.” </p><p>***</p><p>   “Race! Dang, I’m glad I found ya, I need a favor.” Race had rarely seen Jack so flustered,</p><p>   “Okay, so first Jack, who da heck is that tiny person?” Race twirled his cigar curiously as Jack quickly related the story of how he had come to have a small six year old girl holding his hand for dear life,</p><p>   “Do you know anythin’ about what little girls eat Race?” Race shrugged,</p><p>   “I dunno, I ‘spect same things as us but maybe you should ask Specs. He might know.” </p><p>   “Where’s Specs?” Race shrugged again, </p><p>   “Dunno, he probably finished his papes by now?”  Jack snorted in exasperation, </p><p>   “You’re not bein’ helpful, ya know that?” He lowered his voice as he saw the wide eyes of the little girl looking up at him, frightened. </p><p>   “Does she have a name?” Race questioned, grinning as Jack looked comically distressed,</p><p>   “I forgot ta ask!” He knelt down, “Hey...uh...what’s your name?” She ducked her head shyly,</p><p>   “Sarah.” </p><p>   “Okay, well, Sarah…” He stood up and turned to Race, “I’ll take her back with me, can you get some bread or somethin’. Bread’s a pretty safe bet I think. She’ll probably eat that.” Race gave a mock salute and ran off as Jack turned toward the lodging house. </p><p>***</p><p>Loud hoots and jeers greeted Jack as he joined the other boys at The Good Samaritan,</p><p>   “Papa Jack got his self a little girl” </p><p>   “Hey Papa Jack where’s mommy?” </p><p>   “I didn’t know ya had kids!” Jack waved them off,</p><p>   “If you hotshots would stop yellin’ you could help me figure out what the heck I’m supposed to do with her!” The group turned into chaos as the boys yelled out suggestions, none of them very helpful as the frightened girl clung to Jack’s leg. He lifted her up nervously, as if she might break at any moment, “Hey fellas, quiet down, would ya! You’re scarin’ her!” He awkwardly patted her back as she hid her face in his shoulder. Race pushed his way through the group and triumphantly handed Jack the bread, </p><p>   “Here ya go Papa Jack, some sustenance for your child.” He teased. Placing the girl back on the ground he sat down, Jack handed her a piece of bread. She looked at him shyly, almost suspiciously.</p><p>   “Come on now Sarah,” He coaxed, “Eat some supper, you said you was hungry.” Eyes wide, she broke off a piece of her meal and handed it to him. His expression melted as she shared her food and he took a bite, allowing her to climb onto his lap as she disposed of her meal, much to the amusement of the other boys. Rolling his eyes at their jeering, he motioned for them to sit down. </p><p>   “Fellas, I dunno what to do with her but I’m sure she has parents or somethin’ that are worried sick. We gotta get her back home.” </p><p>   “How we gonna do that?” Elmer looked dubious as Jack sighed,</p><p>   “I was hopin’ you guys could help me figure that out.” Crutchie broke in,</p><p>   “I got an idea! How’s about we spread out an’ look around da city. She can’t live too far away, can she? P’rolly within a half hour walk in some direction right?” The boys murmured in agreement and Jack took charge,</p><p>   “That sounds reasonable. Alright, Specs, you head in the Queens direction, Elmer, I want you lookin’ around the Bronx, I’ll go toward Medda’s--” </p><p>   “Hey, Jack?” Buttons interrupted with a grin,</p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “I don’t think you’re gonna be goin’ nowhere.” Looking down Jack saw the little girl curled up peacefully against his chest, eyes closed and breathing slow and steady. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and considered waking her up but as he moved to shake her awake she instinctively curled closer to him, snuggling up against his body warmth. </p><p>   “Alright well, I guess I’ll be stayin’ here. If one of ya finds her parents tell them ta stay put and I’ll bring her over.” <br/>The boys dispersed and Crutchie settled himself closer to his friend, smiling as Jack unconsciously wrapped an arm protectively around the little girl. </p><p>   “You’ll make a good father, Jack.” He teased gently. Jack mused as he stared down at the sleeping child,</p><p>   “I used to want little kids, Crutchie. When I was younger I thought I’d love ta be a father. But I ain’t so sure now.” </p><p>   “Why?” </p><p>   “Crutchie, I can’t even take care of you right!” Crutchie laughed,</p><p>   “Jack you’ve took care of me plenty well.” Jack shook his head,</p><p>   “Gettin’ thrown into the refuge?” His face turned darker, “My Da worked himself to death, like most of the men in his factory. I know that ain’t my fault, it woulda happened anyway, there wasn’t much other work. But when he looked at me, at the end of the day when we’d eat whatever little we’d have for dinner, I couldn’t stand it. Back then I didn’t know why he’d look at me like that, but now I do know. I guess I probably don’t know really but I know he was hurtin’ lookin’ at me, half-starved while he was doin’ all he could and couldn’t do any better. An’ I don’t want that hurt Crutchie, I don’ want to look into the eyes of starvin’ children and know I’ve let them down and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.” </p><p>The girl shifted in his arms and he loosened his grasp, realizing he had been clutching her closer in his fervency. He looked down at her and smiled sadly, “She’s a sweet thing, I like her a lot.” He looked up, his expression plaintive, “but Crutchie she’d be miserable if she was mine, starvin’ an’ livin’ on the streets...naw if I had kids they’d be better off without me.” Crutchie had been toying with his fingers but he looked up suddenly at Jack’s words,</p><p>   “No, they wouldn’t. Some kids is better off without their parents. I know that better than most. But don’t say that Jack, it ain’t true for you and never will be.” </p><p>The boys sat in silence, finally falling asleep as the night grew late. </p><p>***</p><p>   “Jack! Jack, wake up!” Starting awake, Jack rubbed his eyes as Elmer continued excitedly, “Jack I found her parents!” Jack sat up, startling the little girl awake who began crying at the unfamiliar surroundings.</p><p>   “Aw shoot.” Jack awkwardly patted her, “It’s alright Sarah, we is gonna take you home.” He stood, gently picking the girl up and wrapping her in his jacket again, “Alright Elmer, let’s get going.” </p><p>The nighttime air was biting and Jack held the girl close, trying to shield her from the wind. “How far we goin’ Elmer?” </p><p>   “Just twenty-five minutes or so. Ya know Jacobi’s Deli? That’s her father, and you was right, they’re worried sick about her. They woulda awarded me the medal of honor if they could’ve, I wanna see what they do to you.” He smirked as they hurried along the pavement. <br/>A loud exclamation rent the air as they came to Jacobi’s Deli and a woman rushed out, tears streaming down her face, followed by the middle-aged owner of the deli. To his great surprise, the woman threw herself on Jack, embracing him closely.</p><p>   “Bless you, bless you boy.” She murmured with her heavy accent. Jack was almost bashful as he handed the girl over to her parents, their sincere thanks and joy to have her restored unhurt was almost payment in itself. He waved aside their words,</p><p>   “Aw well, I couldn’t just let her freeze. Anyone woulda done it.” The man shook his head, tears shining in his eyes as well,</p><p>   “That is not true. You are a good boy. A very good boy, we must repay you.” Jack shook his head,</p><p>   “It really wasn’t much--” But the man was ushering him into the deli along with Elmer,</p><p>   “Do you like corned beef?” The boy's mouth’s watered and Jack nodded,</p><p>   “...yeah.” The man smiled, </p><p>   “I will make you the best sandwich in the city!” </p><p>The boys were silent as they made quick work of the meal, the man bobbing happily over them. “You like? Bring your other friends who help find Sarah, and I will give them some too!” The boys nodded their thanks as Jacobi shook Jack’s hand between his, “You and your friends are welcome to come to Jacobi’s Deli during non-busy hours if you need a place to sit down or get warm. Alas, I cannot always feed you but you are welcome.” Jack smiled as little Sarah came running up and hugged his legs, smiling shyly up at him. </p><p>   “I’ll be sure to come Mr. Jacobi, and I’ll visit Sarah too.” Giving the little girl a quick embrace, the boys entered back into the cold of the late-night, heading back toward the lodging house.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. On The Roof Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's easy to see how much Jack helps Crutchie, but Crutchie helps Jack in less obvious ways.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1898 - 3 months later</p><p>The bitter winds had begun to turn mild in the city, the ugly grey snow turning into even uglier grey slush, then evaporating away entirely. The Newsies began to shed gloves and jackets, opting for lighter clothing to combat the midday heat. </p><p>Crutchie turned over restlessly, laying on top of his blanket and not bothering to cover himself in the stuffy heat of the shared sleeping area. Hot as it was, many of the boys slept on different rooftops during summer, forgoing the safety of The Good Samaritan for a breath of fresh air. Crutchie sat up with a sigh, adjusting the position of the crooked leg that kept him from doing the same, and wiped a drop of sweat from his face. He looked up as Specs crept into the room and knelt beside him,</p><p>   “Ay Crutchie?” Crutchie sat up,</p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “Have you seen Jack?” Crutchie sighed and glanced toward a dirty door near the back of the room. Specs shook his head,</p><p>   “He’s on da roof again?” Crutchie nodded, </p><p>   “Yeah.” Specs bit his lip,</p><p>   “How long has he been sleepin’ there?” </p><p>   “Since it got warmer.” </p><p>   “An’ he’s still yellin’ at anyone who tries ta go up there with him?” Crutchie nodded again,</p><p>   “Yeah.” The two boys were silent for a moment,</p><p>   “Ay Crutchie?” </p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “You ever tried goin’ up there?” Crutchie shook his head, </p><p>   “Naw he won’ want me.” Specs sighed and adjusted his glasses, peering seriously at the younger boy</p><p>   “Crutchie, me an’ the other guys were talkin’, see, an’ we don’ like it. Jack ain’t never tried ta be alone like dat before. You gotta have noticed what he’s been doin’ since he got outa the refuge...he’s just like normal durin’ the day, but at night he don’ like none of us around no more.” Crutchie’s face twisted worriedly, </p><p>   “Yeah I noticed...but Specs ya don’t think that Jack’s thinkin’ bout…” He trailed away and Specs shook his head,</p><p>   “Naw Jack wouldn’t do that, he want’s ta look after us, or at least you.” Crutchie looked relieved as Specs continued, “But still, I don’t like it. None of us do. We wanna do somethin’ about it. But he don’ want one of us other guys...” Crutchie bit his lip,</p><p>   “You want me ta do it.” He looked up at Specs and nodded, “Okay. I’ll go find him.” Spec’s face broke into a grin, </p><p>   “You’re a pal Crutchie.” He patted the boy on the shoulder before hopping up and bounding out of the room, leaping with catlike agility around the sleeping figures. </p><p>Crutchie picked up his crutch and awkwardly got to his feet. He stumbled around the prostrate forms of the other sleeping boys, reaching the exit without any mishaps. Quietly opening the grimy door he stepped out onto the second-floor fire escape and surveyed the sleeping city, before glancing up at the daunting task ahead of him. Five flights of spindly stairs, guarded by a thin railing were the only way to reach the rooftop of The Good Samaritan. With a determined expression, he reached for the railing and hopped up onto the first step.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Who's Bean?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack stood, leaning on the railing that encircled the roof of the building bent over a grimy piece of paper. The broad strokes from his pencil were forming slowly, not into the beautiful skyline that formed the view, but into a rough sketch of a boy, lying cold, eyes closed, and unmoving. There was only one word as a title, scribbled in the corner: Bean. </p><p>He looked up as he heard the noises of someone mounting the fire escape to the roof and shoved the paper away quickly, </p><p>   “I tol’ already, I don’t wan’ none of you comin’ up here! I claimed this spot, so leave me alone!”  He turned savagely to the breathless figure and his face softened from anger into confusion then worry. “Crutchie?” He ran over and lifted the younger boy onto the roof, “Crutchie ya shouldn’t have come up here! Are you crazy?” Crutchie only grinned slightly at his friend as he worked to catch his breath. Jack punched him gently, “You can’t come up again, it’s too dangerous with your bum leg an’ all…” Crutchie ignored him and hobbled over to the railing, staring out at the dark city. </p><p>   “It sure is a nice view up here.” Jack joined him, </p><p>   “There ain’ none better in da whole city.” Crutchie looked at him doubtfully,</p><p>   “Well...maybe the penthouse over--” Jack waved his words away,</p><p>   “This here is a penthouse. Ain’t nowhere else you can get a breeze like dat.” The two boys stood, enjoying the breeze that blew gently over their faces. Jack rested his chin on his hand and stared off into the distance. He was jerked from his reverie by a rustling sound and he glanced over at Crutchie. “Hey!” The younger boy held several pieces of paper sketched on with a rough charcoal pencil. Jack snatched them away, “Don’t touch those, they’re mine!” Crutchie looked apologetic, </p><p>   “Sorry, I...I didn’t know.” Jack glared at the younger boy and stuffed them away, before looking up, his face softening at Crutchie’s remorseful expression. </p><p>   “It’s fine.” He said roughly, turning back to lean on the railing. Crutchie looked down for a moment then carefully approached him and gently touched his arm.</p><p>   “Jack?” </p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “Who’s Bean?” A muscle in Jack’s face twitched as he answered,</p><p>   “No one. Jis an acquaintance of mine. From da Bronx.” Crutchie looked out over the city, following his friend’s gaze,</p><p>   “He was in the Refuge with you wasn’t he?” Jack didn’t answer, and for a long moment, the two boys stood side by side in silence. Jack turned away from his friend suddenly and began pacing the rooftop in agitation. </p><p>   “Remember when I went ta visit Spot Conlon over in Brooklyn?” Crutchie gave a small laugh,</p><p>   “How could I forget?” Jack ignored the lighthearted comment,</p><p>   “I talked Spot out of bein’ a savage that day, an’ you wanna know what I told him?” Crutchie nodded knowing the boy would continue, “I asked him if he’d ever been ta da refuge, ‘course he had. He knows what it’s like in there. I told him the reason why it’s like that. Nobody cares about what goes on in there, nobody cares how we’re treated. Why? Because to the people that run this city we’re gutter rats. An’ I told Spot, if we fight each other an’ beat each other up, that maybe we deserve that. Maybe we deserve the refuge and everything else this rotten city gives us.” Crutchie was silent, his eyes following his friend as Jack paced back and forth before coming to a sudden stop. </p><p>Jack leaned over and gently took the drawings out from the crack where he had shoved them. His back turned to his friend he continued, “But you knows Crutchie, we all knows that we ain’t gutter rats. Spot knows it, an’ we made an agreement. Because we Newsies of New York ain’t gutter rats. We’re brothers.” He stopped and his shoulders gave an involuntary heave as he turned back toward his friend, his voice breaking with his next words, “But it don’t matter.” </p><p>He shoved the sketch of Bean into his friend’s hand and grasped his shoulders, staring into Crutchies eyes. “It don’t matter Crutchie. It don’t matter that we ain’t gutter rats. It don’t matter that we ain’t savages, that we ain’t animals, but that we’re brothers. It don’t matter because they still think we are. We was brothers, me an’ Bean, jis like you an’ me are brothers. Neither of us shoulda’ been rottin’ in that stinkin’ place, but we were anyway.” His next words were low, shaking,  “And Bean never made it out.” He turned away, leaning heavily against the rail, shoulders heaving. </p><p>Crutchie hobbled over to him and touched his arm gently,</p><p>   “Jack…” Jack turned on him savagely,</p><p>   “You all wanna know why I come up here? It’s because I gotta be alone, I gotta take it out somehow an’ I can’t do it in front of all a’ them. ” His voice began growing louder, “It kills me Crutchie because no matter what we do, we’ll always be gutter rats ta them. Ain’t nobody gives a damn about gutter rats.” His words hung in the air. </p><p>The boys stood in silence for several minutes, broken only Jack’s ragged breathing. Crutchie stood, holding the sketch and observing the delicate though roughly drawn features of the dead boy. He looked up eventually, and joined his friend again at the rail, giving a sad smile.</p><p>    “You’re wrong Jack. You’re wrong when you say it don’t matter if we’re animals or not. It don’ matter ta them yet, but we ain’t rats, we’s family. Family stands together. Family sticks together. And family takes care of each other. We'll make 'em see that someday.” The two stared out silently over city, the grey light of dawn beginning to streak the sky. Jack breathed out for a long moment and put an arm around his friend, </p><p>   “Ay Crutchie?”</p><p>   “Yeah, Jack?” </p><p>   “You wanna share my penthouse?” Crutchie grinned,</p><p>   “I’d like that.” They stood in silence another moment,</p><p>   “Ay Crutchie?”</p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “Did I ever tell you about Santa Fe?”</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. See There's This Girl....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is definitely one of my favorite storylines.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ay Jack?” </p><p>   “Yeah?” Jack quickly shoved the scrap of paper and pencil out of sight. If Race noticed, he uncharacteristically refrained from commenting.</p><p>   “I was wonderin’ if you could do me a favor?” Jack raised a questioning eyebrow,</p><p>   “Whatdya need?” Race looked slightly uncomfortable,</p><p>   “Well, I was wonderin’ if you might have a spare fifty cents or so ta lend to a fellow?” Race stumbled slightly over his words, “See there’s this girl an’..” Jack laughed,</p><p>   “A girl, eh? How’d you manage that?” Race turned red, </p><p>   “You don’t need ta sounds so shocked! Maybe I learned a few tricks from da master.” Jack leaned back with a grin and fished around in his pocket, </p><p>   “There may be hope for you yet Racetrack, if you hang around me enough.” He pulled out a couple of coins, “Enjoy yourself, if you keep her around more than a week you don’t have ta pay me back.” He cuffed Race affectionately on the shoulder as the boy turned away grinning,</p><p>   “You’re a pal Jack, I owe ya one!” He ran down the street as Jack looked after him with a mischievous smile. </p><p>   “Hey, Albert!” The newsie turned toward his friend as he walked by,</p><p>   “Hey, Jack!” Jack beckoned toward him with a grin,</p><p>   “I got’s somethin’ you’ll like to hear,” He leaned in toward the other boy, “Race has got a girl.” Albert looked surprised,</p><p>   “He told you too?” Jack was taken aback,</p><p>   “Whatdya mean ‘me too’?” Albert shrugged,</p><p>   “He came to me an hour or so ago and asked if I could lend him any money because he was takin’ doll out tonight.” Jack was confused,</p><p>   “Did ya give him anythin’?” </p><p>   “Yeah, fifty cents or so.” </p><p>   “So did I.” </p><p>   “Dang she must be some smokin’ dame if he’s spendin’ a whole dollar on her in one night!” Jack’s look of mischief came back at Albert’s words,</p><p>   “Say Al, I kinda wanna see this dame, what do ya say we follow him?” Albert’s eyes danced with mischievously,</p><p>   “Let’s do it!” The two boys hopped up and ran stealthily after Race’s retreating figure. </p><p>***</p><p>They followed the boy for twenty-five minutes, the sky changing from twilight to dusk and finally fading to night. The two boys grew steadily more confused as they crept down the winding alleys leading to a far off, rougher part of the city. Albert was the first to admit bewilderment,</p><p>   “This here ain’t no place to meet a gal.” Jack shook his head in agreement,</p><p>   “No. It ain’t no place at all.” He put a restraining hand on the boy’s shoulder as a block ahead Race squeezed between the broken part of a wooden fence, disappearing into an old lot. The boys cautiously approached the broken wooden fence, peering through the cracks into the lot. </p><p>   “Well! If it ain’t Racetrack Higgins!” A rough voice startled the eavesdroppers as they saw the silhouette of their friend approach a fire in the middle of the lot. “We was afraid you’d think yesterday was your last time. Didn’t wanna have to track ya down and make things messy!” Dark figures were circled around the fire, sitting on odd crates and upside-down trash cans, laughing loudly at the speaker’s words. Race laughed, rather too loudly, along with them, his tone high pitched as he spoke,</p><p>   “Naw, I’m here!” There was an awkward silence then another voice spoke,</p><p>   “Well? Ya got what ya owe?” There was a shuffling sound, then Race spoke again,</p><p>   “Yeah.” He paused, “Well most of it.” There was a low grumble and Race’s tone turned slightly desperate, “I’m gettin’ the rest tomorrow! Or the next day, but no later than that I swear!” The grumbles grew louder then suddenly quieted as one of the figures held up his hands. It was the first speaker,</p><p>   “Alright kid, you got until the day afta’ tomorrow. But if it's any later than that…” His words trailed off significantly. He turned to the others, “Alright! Let’s deal!” Packs of cards were taken out, the men spitting tobacco while shuffling them. Race’s voice was heard again as they handed out piles of cards,</p><p>   “I think I’ll sit this one out.” The men guffawed loudly,</p><p>   “Come on Racetrack, you might win big tonight! Then you could pay us back and more besides.” Race’s expression was unsure but he nodded,</p><p>   “Alright then. Deal me in.”</p><p>The game began, the lot was quiet as the men studied their cards, placing them down one by one. </p><p>Albert turned from the crack he was observing through, looking at Jack, eyes wide with what they had seen. He was taken aback by the dark look painted over his friend’s features,</p><p>   “Jack?” He whispered. Jack curled his lip,</p><p>   “The rotten *** ” He swore. “He thinks it's funny that we’s workin’ ourselves half ta death an’ he’ll just take our hard-earned wages an’--” He choked on his words in anger, “That dirty stinkin’--” He was cut off as loud groans came from the lot. Several men laughed gleefully at the cards their opponents set down. Race’s face was pale in the firelight as he dropped his cards. A large man laughed coarsely into his face,</p><p>   “Looks like you’ll have ta find even more dough than you thought before Racetrack Higgins.” Race smiled wanly and turned toward the gate, leaving the group with few noticing his absence. </p><p>He squeezed through the gap in the fence and started violently as Jack clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into another alley, out of the hearing of the rough group of men. </p><p>Jack roughly shoved the boy against the wall and removed the hand from his mouth. Race sagged with relief as he saw his friend’s face,</p><p>   “Jack! Jees I thought you was--” His words were cut off as Jack unceremoniously balled up his fist and punched the boy’s face, hitting him squarely in the eye. Race cried out in pain, looking up at Jack, his eyes streaming, “Jack?” Jack’s look of anger was unmistakable, </p><p>   “There ain’t no explanation for this Race. A girl?” He laughed bitterly, “We’s out here breakin’ our backs, we think we’re all in the same boat but then you, you go an’ give that money to these--” His voice was shaking in anger, “But it don’ content you to waste your own earnings, no. You takes our wages and--and throws them to those--those dogs!” He spat out the word, “Well if you wanna be with dogs then that’s what you are Race. And ain’t none of us boys wanna be friends with a dog.” He turned away from the boy, gesturing to Albert who’s face mirrored Jack’s disgust. “Come’on Albert, it’s time we was goin’ home.” The boys turned on their heel and walked away. </p><p>   “Are ya gonna tell the others?” Albert questioned his friend as Race’s figure grew smaller behind them. Jack’s face was grim,</p><p>   “They need ta know.”</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. We Still Gotta Find Him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The other newsies’ faces echoed Jack’s disgust as he told them what he had seen in the abandoned lot and several grumbled that Race had borrowed from them as well. Crutchie was alone among the Newsies in not completely shunning the unfortunate boy as he slunk back much later that evening. Crutchie appealed to Jack, </p><p>    “Couldn’t you at least talk ta him?” Jack shook his head, leaning exhaustedly against the rail, looking out over the view but not seeing the beauty of the sleeping city.</p><p>    “He’s a fool for usin’ his own wages and he’s a burden on us if he does it, cause he knows we won't let him starve. But borrowin’ our money to gamble like that...he don’t deserve our companionship.” </p><p>***</p><p>For two days Race’s isolation was complete. He slunk out in the mornings, his usual joking manner replaced with silence as he quietly bought his newspapers for the day, lining up to buy next to boys who pointedly looked away from him. Even his selling suffered but only Crutchie noticed the several unsold papers that he threw despondently into a garbage can at the end of the second day, peering over his shoulder at the other boys before disappearing into an alley. </p><p>***</p><p>The next evening Crutchie limped up to Jack, his face twisted into an expression of distress as the older boy violently crumpled a drawing in disgust.<br/>   “Jack!” Jack turned toward him in frustration,</p><p>   “What?” </p><p>   “Jack, Race is missing.” Jack shrugged with indifference,</p><p>   “So? I’m not his babysitter.” </p><p>   “Nobody’s seen him for a long time.” Jack sighed,</p><p>   “How long is a long time?” Crutchie bit his lip,</p><p>   “I was the last one who saw him, early yesterday evening.” Jack frowned,</p><p>   “He wasn’t sleepin’ in his normal spot last night?” Crutchie shook his head. “Didn’t he buy any papes this mornin’?” </p><p>   “No.” </p><p>Jack swore quietly and stood up, </p><p>  “Alright.” Crutchie followed him and the boys made their way to the deli where the Newsies often congregated in their freetime. He waved the boys quiet, “Fellas!” The newsies looked at him, </p><p>  “Crutchie here says nobody ain’t seen Race since yesterday.” The boys nodded confirmation. Jack looked down at Crutchie’s face, twisted into worry for the missing newsie, then back to the others, his expression determined. “Well, fellas, Race may be a dirty traitor but we still gotta find him. So pair up, let’s go look.” The boys organized into groups and Jack turned to Crutchie, </p><p>   “Go back ta the roof and wait for me there.” Crutchie didn’t argue, simply grabbing his crutch as Jack jogged over to join with Specs. </p><p>***</p><p>With a grim expression, Jack led the way. Specs followed as they retracing the path he and Albert had taken several days before while following Race toward the gang. Checking meticulously in every alleyway the boys searched fruitlessly for several hours. Little conversation besides what was necessary was exchanged between the two as the sky faded into deep night. Only a solitary streetlamp lit the way as they came to the final alley, the deep silence confirming that both the alley and lot were deserted. The boys separated, looking between the broken-down houses. </p><p>His head aching badly, Jack leaned exhaustedly against a building, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. He looked up suddenly as Spec’s voice emerged, strained but quiet, from a dark corner of the alley,</p><p>    “Jack, I found him.” Jack joined the boy in an instant, kneeling down next to a still form that lay on the ground. He looked anxiously at Specs,</p><p>   “Is he...?” Specs shook his head,</p><p>   “Naw, he’s breathing.” </p><p>Race was breathing, though very lightly, his skin far too hot to the touch as Jack brushed a palm across his forehead. The two boys looked at each other, their faces grim. Jack placed a hand on the prostrate boy’s shoulder, gently turning him over. </p><p>Race’s face was pale, his hair matted in blood, and eyes closed, one of them badly puffed. A knot on his head was swollen and his lip was cut and bleeding, his face littered with bruises and cuts. He moaned softly as Jack stared, sickened. </p><p>Spec’s long fingers carefully examined the boy’s limbs, </p><p>   “His ankle ain’t lookin’ so good Jack.” Jack bit his lip then sucked in a quiet gasp as he opened up the boy’s shirt revealing a mass of purplish-black bruises covering his torso. He stood up, the distress etched his face evident for a moment as he turned to his friend, </p><p>   “Give me a hand with him Specs.” </p><p>As gently as they could the two boys hoisted the unconscious Race onto Jack’s back, wincing in sympathy as another moan escaped the boy’s lips. Jack’s jaw was clenched as they turned toward home and not even Specs heard the muttered words,</p><p>   “Somebody’s gonna pay.”</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. We'll Talk About It Later</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are we gonna do with him Jack?” Specs’ face was etched with concern. Jack’s expression was grim as he answered,</p><p>   “Same place you took me. We’re goin’ to Medda. I don’t know how much she can do, but she can do it better than us.” </p><p>The walk to the Theater was long, Jack’s exhaustion and the effort of trying to keep the hurt boy as comfortable as possible did nothing to shorten it. <br/>If Medda was surprised at seeing three newsies on her doorstep well after midnight, one of them critically injured, she didn’t show it. Her usual teasing manner cast aside in the emergency, she quietly supplied them with a bed, bandages, washcloths, and water. She shook her head over the injuries, carefully prodding the boy’s belly before turning back to Jack with a grim expression,</p><p>   “I don’t know much, but I do know enough to see that he ain’t just hurt on the outside. He’s got at least one broken rib among other things. I just hope the internal injuries can heal.” Jack barely acknowledged her words, turning back to Race and using a wet rag to gently clean the blood off the boy’s face and extremities. Spec’s and Medda worked together to set the broken ankle, doing their best to ignore the whimpers of pain from the unconscious boy. After half an hour Medda handed the two boys clean rags to wash themselves, “We’ve done all we could for now. He needs rest, and so do you two.” She quietly left the room as Jack turned to Specs, </p><p>   “Go on now, I’ll stay with him. When the other boys get up, tell them what happened.” Specs nodded, too tired to argue and turned toward the door but Jack grabbed his shoulder gently,</p><p>   “Specs. Those men, they’s gonna keep comin’ after him until his debts are paid.” Specs looked grave,</p><p>   “What are we gonna do?” Jack reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins and handing them to the boy,</p><p>   “The debts will be more than one boy can pay. Gather up the others and tell them. See what they’re willin’ to give.” Specs took the coins and stowed them in his pocket.</p><p>   “Right. I’ll come check on ya tomorrow.” He let himself out of the theater, leaving Jack alone with the injured boy. <br/>Jack’s face was twisted into a troubled expression as he stared for a long moment at the Race’s mangled face. </p><p>   “I was wrong Racetrack Higgins, you ain’t a dog. You’re nothin’ but a scared kid, just like all of us. Just like...me.” He dipped a washcloth in cold water and placed it on the boy’s all-too-warm forehead. Race’s eyes fluttered open,</p><p>   “Jack?” He whispered, Jack leaned over him,</p><p>   “Yeah, it’s me.” <br/>Race’s eyes darted feverishly around the room,</p><p>   “The gang--” He tried to sit up, gasping in pain, his hand flying to his stomach and ribs as Jack gently pushed him back down,</p><p>   “Easy Racetrack, they got you pretty good. We almost had ta scrape you off the street.” He ignored the tears of pain that leaked down the boy’s cheeks and brought a tin cup of water to his lips. Coughing slightly on the water, Race gasped and spoke again,</p><p>   “Jack I messed up bad--” </p><p>   “We’ll talk about it later Race,” Jack’s voice was calm, “for now you’s gotta rest.” The tears on Race’s face were no longer from pain,</p><p>   “You won’t talk ta me later. No one will.” He choked out. Jack’s face tightened at his words, then softened again,</p><p>   “Ain’t none of us gonna shun you no more, Race. Just try ta sleep.” He gently covered the now shivering boy with one of Medda’s blankets, watching him until he drifted off.</p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Race</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For several days Jack stayed by his side. Feverish and often delirious, Race drifted in and out of consciousness, only aware of the sickening pain even when he was awake. Jack left him only for a few hours every day to sleep as one of the other newsies or Medda watched the injured boy. On the afternoon of the third day, he was woken by Medda’s gentle hand shaking him. He sat bolt upright,</p><p>   “Whatssamatter?” Medda smiled,</p><p>   “His fever broke and he’s awake. He’s asking for you.” Jack breathed a sigh of relief,</p><p>   “I’ll go see him right now.” He crept into the boy’s room. Race was sitting up, pale, but, to Jack’s relief, unflushed by fever. “Hey Racetrack!” The boy gave him a wan smile,</p><p>   “Hey.” </p><p>   “How ya feelin’?” Race grimaced,</p><p>   “Not too good.” His hand crept over his stomach, “My belly’s pretty sore an’ I won’t be walkin’ on dat ankle for a few more days an’ I’ve got a wanging headache but,” He gave a dry laugh, “Better than before.” </p><p>Jack flopped onto the bed and laughed,</p><p>   “Ya gave Specs ‘an me quite the job luggin’ you over here after findin’ ya on the street.” Race didn’t join in Jack’s laughter, his face grew grave and he looked down, picking at the sheets. His voice was low,</p><p>   “I messed real bad Jack. Like real bad. You was right about what you said, an’ I deserved everythin’ I got.” Jack was serious as he responded,</p><p>   “I shouldn’t have made the guys shun you like that, we shoulda had it over an’ done with, maybe knocked ya around it a bit like we normally do and be brothers again. But ain’t nobody who deserves the beatin’ you got for what you did. I’d say you learned your lesson pretty well though.” Race gave a humorless laugh, his expression turning serious again,</p><p>   “It ain’t over though Jack. I--” His voice caught, “I, still didn’t pay the money. They’s gonna keep comin’ after me.” Jack shook his head,</p><p>   “No, they won't.” </p><p>   “Jack you don’t know ‘em. They won’t give up until they get’s the money.” Jack placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder,</p><p>   “They won’t come after ya Race. They got the money.” Race stared at him in shock for several seconds,</p><p>   “They...but...how?” </p><p>   “I got the fellas together, we squeezed out enough ta send a couple of the guys ta pay the man you owed. Fortunately he was alone so they beat him up good after givin’ it to him.” </p><p>Jack kindly turned away from his friend as Race roughly wiped a hand across his eyes and they sat in silence for a minute or so. Race’s voice was low as he spoke again, </p><p>   “Jack.” </p><p>   “Yeah?” </p><p>   “They took everythin’. I don’t even got enough to buy the papes I need ta sell for one day.” Jack punched his friend’s shoulder gently,</p><p>   “That ain’t much of a problem. You won’t be sellin’ papes for a few more days but when ya do,” He fished out a coin and handed it to his friend, “Consider it an indefinite loan.” Race shook his head and tried to give the coin back,</p><p>   “I can’t Jack. Not after…” Jack pushed his hand away,</p><p>   “Let’s just say ya owe me one Race.” He arranged the pillow and in a roughly gentle way pushed the boy down, “Now get some rest, ya can’t live at the theater forever, Medda’ll kick ya out in a few days.” He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. It's A Shame To Waste It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's an entirely fluffy chapter to atone briefly for the angst (never fear the angst shall return)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, no kids allowed in the theater!” Jack gave Crutchie a quick grin, jogging down the stairs toward the imposing women yelling up them from the stage, </p><p>   “Hey, Miz Medda! That ain’t the welcome I was expectin’.” The women’s face broke into a wide smile and she held out her arms toward the boy,</p><p>   “Jack Kelly!” She embraced him, then held him out at arm's length, “You look better than you did when I last saw you after not sleepin’ for days lookin’ after that boy...how is Race anyway?” </p><p>   “He’s fine. Ain’t even limpin’ anymore an’ just as troublesome as usual. Everyone knows he learned his lesson and ain’t nobody talkin’ about it.” </p><p>   “I am glad to hear it,” Medda nodded approvingly, “He was pretty close, that one. He looked even worse than you after that fight with Spot Conlin and you looked two and a half inches from death.” <br/>Jack looked sheepish,</p><p>   “Ay, Spot looked worse!” She snorted,</p><p>   “Yes, so I heard.” <br/>She turned with mock severity to Crutchie who had just finished limping happily down the stairs,</p><p>   “Have you been keepin’ a good eye on him like I told you?” Crutchie nodded,</p><p>   “I’ve been keepin’ two eyes!” Medda laughed approvingly, </p><p>   “I’ve never seen one like Jack ta get into a scrape.” Jack held up his hands,</p><p>   “Hey, I ain’t tryin’ purposefully.” He elbowed Crutchie playfully then turned to Medda more seriously, “So, Albert said you wanted to see me Miz Medda?” She pursed her lips,</p><p>   “Yes, I do. Because first of all you got no business stayin’ away for weeks at a time young man.” Her tone was reproving, “Ol’ Medda worries ya know.” Jack looked down sheepishly,</p><p>   “I...I had some stuff Miz Medda--” She shook her head with a laugh,</p><p>   “I know an excuse when I see one. Anyway, you owe me a favor Jack.” He looked up, </p><p>   “A favor?” She pursed her lips,</p><p>   “You were bleeding badly when those boys carried you in here after that fight with Spot an’ I had to rip up one of my nicest white background sheets ta clean you up.” <br/>Jack laughed,</p><p>   “Oh! Well, I give you my sincerest apologies for causing you the loss of such an important part of the show, and offer my services for whatever you need in repayment.” He gave an exaggerated bow. She waggled a finger at him,</p><p>   “Yes, you will.” She called backstage, “Mr. Conihan?” A sweaty looking man dragged out a large canvas and a wooden pallet with brushes and several cans of paint. Medda waved at the supplies, “I need a new background for one of my shows.” Jack shifted uncomfortably,</p><p>   “I dunno Miz Medda, I ain’t never done anythin’ like that before…” Medda chuckled and pulled a well worn piece of paper from a pocket in her dressing gown, </p><p>   “You won’t remember this Jack, but you dropped a paper on the floor the first night you came to the theatre, years ago.” She handed it to him, the rough sketch clearly depicting her in the middle of singing a solo. Jack took the paper reluctantly as she turned to Crutchie, “And I don’t think you’ve stopped drawin’ since, isn’t that right Crutchie?” The younger boy grinned and nodded as Jack gave him a look. Her voice turned less teasing and more gentle as the older boy studied the years old drawing, “You’ve got real talent, young man. It’s a shame to waste it, and I won’t let you. And so,” She gestured to the supplies, “take as much time as you need, I’ll be happy with whatever masterpiece you choose to create.” She disappeared backstage, loudly directing several men on the placement of set pieces, leaving Jack staring thoughtfully at the blank, white canvas.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Good Evening Miss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A bit of flirty Jack here, I am well aware that I haven't included enough given how prevalent his flirtatiousness is in the musical, so I do hope you all will forgive me and accept this chapter as a peace offering.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I dunno Jack, are mountain’s purplish like that?” Romeo eyed the canvas critically, leaning on the upper floor balcony looking down onto the stage. Crutchie looked up indignantly from his perch on the supplies pallet “What are you, a fancy art critic? Jack knows what he’s doin’!” Jack snorted as he dipped his brush and carefully added another streak of paint. </p><p>The painting had been shaping up for several days, and Medda was at her wits end with the constant stream of curious Newsies going in and out of the theatre to observe to Jack’s great embarrassment. She had finally ruled that only was allowed in at a time, not counting Crutchie of course, to watch Jack at work. <br/>Romeo held up his hands in mock surrender at Crutchie’s words “Alright, alright I won’t comment no more.” He straightened up suddenly as a chorus girl crossed the stage, “Hey sweetheart,” he called. She glanced up at him as Jack turned around with a cocky grin,</p><p>   “Ay Romeo, that’s no way to treat this fine young lady,” He laid the paintbrush down and sauntered over to her, </p><p>   “Why good evening Miss, how are you this fine evening?” She blushed,</p><p>   “Quite well, thank you, it is a gorgeous night.” </p><p>   “Not as gorgeous as you’re lookin’ right now.” Jack winked at the girl who giggled and blushed. Medda’s voice issued disapprovingly from backstage,</p><p>   “Keep away from my girls Jack Kelly.”  </p><p>   “I don’ mind Miz Medda” the girl chirped, fluttering her eyelashes at Jack. </p><p>Medda emerged from behind the curtains, eyebrow raised with good-humored disapproval, “You don’t, but I do.” She swatted Jack, “And what are you teachin’ Crutchie? Now get back to work an stay outa trouble.” He dodged her blow with a laugh then gestured toward the canvas, </p><p>   “I’m almost done. It ain’t much but I hope you're happy.” Medda surveyed the painting, a smile spreading across her face, </p><p>   “Ain’t much? Jack, that’s lovely!” She turned to Crutchie, “Didn’t I tell ya he could do it? Wasn’t I right?” Crutchie was enthusiastic,</p><p>   “It’s a be-yoo-tiful!” Jack rolled his eyes, </p><p>   “Alright, I’m blushing. Lay off it ain’t a big deal.” Crutchie and Medda exchanged an exasperated glance as Jack washed the paint from his brushes and scrubbed the stains off his forearms. Medda handed him a towel to dry his dripping hands, </p><p>   “Now you make sure to come an’ see the show. It’ll be a doozy when it opens, though who knows when that’ll be.” She sighed then brightened, “I even arranged to have some girl reporter from the Sun come to review it when we’re ready.” Jack grinned,</p><p>   “Course I’ll see it Miz Medda, I wouldn’t miss seenin’ you in that costume for the world!” He gestured to the half-finished extravagant magenta dress with clashing green bows. Medda put her hands on her hips in mock offense</p><p>   “You shush Jack Kelly that’s enough of your lip for one day. Now you run along now.” Jack gave her a jaunty wave as he bent over to help Crutchie on his back and carried him down the stairs,</p><p>   “I’ll be seein’ you around Miz Medda.”</p>
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<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Don't Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The last storyline (still one more chapter) of this fanfic, I love Jack but he also is definitely not perfect.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The evening was quite beautiful and the boys took their time on the way back to The Good Samaritan, stopping to chat with several of Jack’s acquaintances. Jack whistled and Crutchie limped cheerfully along several blocks away from The Good Samaritan when a voice called at them across the street,</p><p>   “Kelly!” Jack stopped whistling and turned around with a grin,</p><p>   “Spot Conlon! Whatcha doin’ here?” Spot jogged across the street, a paper bag in his hand. He winked at Jack and held it up,</p><p>   “Jis pickin’ somethin’ up. The boys an’ I like ta have a party every now an’ again.” A large jug was inside the bag, liquid sloshing around inside. “Hey!” He punched Jack on the shoulder, “We’d love ta have ya join. Peace offering, showing goodwill an’ all that because we’s keepin’ our end of da deal.” Jack laughed,</p><p>   “Sounds good!” But Crutchie tugged his sleeve,</p><p>   “Jack?” He motioned a few steps away. Jack excused himself,</p><p>   “Whassamater?” </p><p>   “Don’t go Jack, they’re drinkin’.” Jack laughed,</p><p>   “They’s just havin’ fun Crutchie, don’t worry. I’m jis goin’ as a show of goodwill.” </p><p>   “Jack really,” Crutchie’s expression was serious, pleading, “Please. Don’t go.” Jack waved away his words,</p><p>   “Don’t be a prude Crutchie, we’s just havin’ a little fun, there ain’t no harm in that.” Turning on his friend’s further protests he jogged over to Spot,</p><p>   “I accept your kind invitation.” He turned over his shoulder to his friend, “Go home Crutchie, I’ll be back in couple a’ hours.” <br/>***<br/>Spot and Jack chatted amicably on the twenty-five-minute walk to meet the Brooklyn boys. Spot admitted that he had made similar deals with the boys of other boroughs as he had made with Manhattan, arrangements which the other newsies were only too happy to agree to.  </p><p>   “My boys is a little bored without patrollin’ the streets but I tell’s ‘em ‘better bored than in the refuge’.” Spot chuckled and Jack grinned. </p><p>The welcome from the rest of the Brooklyn newsies was exuberant as the boys reached the meetup place. They evidently liked Jack very much and had seemed to decide he was an honorary Brooklyn newsies due to his “real good brains”. </p><p>With the boys circling around, Spot stood on an old crate, his arm thrown around Jack’s shoulders orating for a minute or so about the boy’s smarts. He finished and took a swig from the bottle, handing it around to the other boys. As the bottle came to Jack he took it unenthusiastically, wondering if it were perhaps the best idea after all to be trying liquor for the first time amongst the toughest newsies in the city. Reluctant, however, to lose his high standing among them he took a large swig from the bottle. The liquor burned as it went down, bringing tears to his eyes as he suppressed choking coughs, handing the jug to the next boy and grinning broadly to show he was unaffected. </p><p>As the jug was passed around the boys grew merrier, swapping stories and laughing loudly. By the third pass around Jack was enjoying himself greatly, loudly acting out a charade of his escape from the refuge on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage to the great amusement of the other boys. Sitting back down he took several swallows as the boys booed,</p><p>   “Ay Kelly leave some for us!” <br/>Spot laughed but raised an eyebrow,</p><p>   “Jis remember you gotta walk yourself home, ain’t none of us carryin’ ya.” Jack laughed,</p><p>   “We’ll be carrying you home Spot!” He took another swig as the boys laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. </p><p>The gathering continued as the sky changed from dusk to darkness. By eleven o'clock Jack had grown quieter as his vision blurred slightly and the loud laughter and talking of the boys blending together into a barely recognizable garble. He stood reluctantly as Spot yelled,</p><p>   “Right gang, time to hit the sack!” </p><p>Feeling dizzily for the wall to steady himself, he waved vaguely at the direction of the goodbye’s from the Brooklyn boys and wondered absently why the garbage can seemed to become two garbage cans. </p><p>He stumbled along for several minutes, his head beginning to ache as he looked around confusedly. His thoughts seemed to be swimming in honey as he gazed around at his surroundings, frowning with confusion, before stumbling off in another direction, hoping it was correct. <br/>***<br/>Half an hour later found him clutching weakly at his stomach as it flipped sickeningly, leaning against the wall. Groaning quietly he felt copious amounts of saliva fill his mouth and gagged as he tried to swallow. Doubling over and falling onto his hands and knees he began vomiting on the broken cobblestones of the alley. The mixture of bile and alcohol burned his throat as it made its reappearance and a sour taste filled his mouth. As his stomach heaved violently he suddenly felt a hand on his back, gently steadying him,</p><p>   “You’re alright pal, jis get it out.”  <br/>When his stomach calmed down for a moment he looked blearily at the figure that knelt next to him.</p><p>   “Race?” He slurred. Race squeezed his shoulder lightly, </p><p>   “Crutchie told me where you was goin’ an’ I thought it might be a good idea ta go make sure you got home okay.” Jack blinked at him, woozy. </p><p>   “Thanks.” Race pulled his friend’s arm around his shoulders and hoisted the unsteady Jack onto his feet.</p><p>   “Come’on, let’s go home.” Leaning heavily on his friend, Jack was only just aware enough to sense the situation, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment as the boy half-carried him home. </p><p>   “You’re a pal Race.” He slurred before starting to gag again. Race gave a half-smile as he steadied the boy, helping him to the ground where he began vomiting a second time. </p><p>   “You woulda done the same.”</p>
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<a name="section0030"><h2>30. I Can Get Down Myself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's the worst thing that could happen to Jack? Losing Crutchie's friendship.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack could hear the voices distantly as he lay, sprawled out where Race had laid him after hauling him with great difficulty up the stairs. Crutchie’s voice was upset,</p><p>   “What’s wrong with him?” </p><p>   “He’s drunk. He need’s ta sleep it off.” </p><p>   “He’s drunk?”</p><p>   “He’ll be fine, puked most of it up already. He’ll have wanging headache in the morning so wake him up nice and gentle. Only me and you know ‘bout it and I’ll keep quiet. Ain’t nobody else need ta know.” </p><p>Crutchie’s voice was uncharacteristically hard, “I don’t like them Brooklyn boys.”</p><p>   “It ain’t Brooklyn’s fault, that’s how they party. They meant well, Jack shoulda knowed better. I don’t think they encouraged him ta go over the top. But then again they didn’t know that we don’t often get a chance with liquor, we ain’t used to it.” Crutchie’s words were tight,</p><p>   “I know I ain’t bein’ fair. But I jis can’t stand seein’ him like that…” Race’s voice was gentle,</p><p>   “I don’t like it any more than you, but everyone makes mistakes Crutchie. I know that better than anyone and I won’t forget how Jack helped teach me that. You gotta give him a second chance.”</p><p>   “But I told him Race, I told him he shouldn’t go an’ he ignored me. He don’t know--” Crutchie’s voice broke suddenly and there were a few moments of silence then the sound of Race standing up,</p><p>   “You an’ Jack can talk it out in the mornin’. He sure won’t be able to talk now.” The fire escape clanged faintly as the boy made his way down leaving only the night noises of the city. Dizzy and ill Jack drifted off quickly, oblivious to the silent torment of his friend, as Crutchie sat, watching him sleep off the alcohol. <br/>***<br/>“Mornin’ bell’s ringin’, time ta get up Jack.” Jack groaned, putting a hand up to his forehead and screwing his eyes up tightly.<br/>“Just a few more minutes.” He moaned. Crutchie’s voice was unsympathetic “I ain’t tellin’ you again, get up before the other guys wonder where you are and Race or me gotta tell ‘em about last night.” Jack sat up with a gasp of shock as cold water was poured onto his face.</p><p>   “All right! I’m up!” Crutchie turned away as Jack stumbled upright, fumbling his way through his toilet, groaning quietly. He grimaced as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the skylight, his face pale with dark bags under his eyes and flushed as he remembered bits and pieces of the events of the night before. <br/>He bent over on the stairs to allow Crutchie to climb on his back so he could carry him down to the street as usual but Crutchie simply shook his head.</p><p>   “I can get down myself.” Jack, slower on the uptake than usual, stared at him for a moment,</p><p>   “What?” </p><p>   “You don’t have to carry me, I’ll get down myself.” Jack narrowed his eyes,</p><p>   “No the heck you won’t, I won’t let you do that. Get your butt over here you ain’t climbing down these stairs by yourself.” </p><p>   “I got up by myself yesterday.” Crutchie’s gaze was hard and Jack didn’t meet it,</p><p>   “You coulda got one of the other fellas to help ya.” </p><p>   “Well why don’t ya get one of the other fellas ta help me now.” Jack shook his head,</p><p>   “Crutchie, whatssamater?” </p><p>   “Nothin’.” </p><p>   “If this is about last night, I ain’t gonna drop you, I promise.” Crutchie looked away pointedly as Jack struggled with his pride,</p><p>   “Please Crutchie, jis get on.” He begged. His lips pressed together thinly, Crutchie relented and climbed onto his friend’s back, but scrambled down as soon as they reached the ground, limping away without his usual thanks. <br/>Jack stared after his friend in distress before his attention was captured by the rest of the newsies streaming toward the paper distribution area. </p><p>   “Jees the headlines better be good today.” </p><p>   “Hey, that’s my cigar!”</p><p>   “Mornin’ Jack!” Jack’s response to the greeting was far from cheery. He laid a restraining hand on Race’s shoulder, allowing the other boys to get several paces ahead. </p><p>   “Race.” </p><p>   “Hey, pal. How are ya?” </p><p>   “Better than last night.”</p><p>   “Remember much?” </p><p>   “No. But enough. Thanks, Race.” Race puffed on his cigar,</p><p>   “It’s what brothers do. An’ anyway I owed ya one.” </p><p>   “Yeah. Looks like that’s paid off now.” Race shook his head with a grin,</p><p>   “Naw, not for a while yet. Anyway, don’t mention it. The other fellas don’t know.” Jack’s look of relief was evident,</p><p>   “You're a pal Race.” He glanced around before lowering his voice slightly, “Do you know what’s with Crutchie?” Race’s expression turned serious,</p><p>   “Not really. He said he asked ya not to go but you went anyway. You might wanna talk it through with him.” </p><p>   “He won’t talk ta me.” Race chewed his lip,</p><p>   “Try him again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. I Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>   “Come on Crutchie, let’s hit the sack.” The day had been exhausting, nursing the hangover and worrying about Crutchie while trying to pretend to the other newsies that everything was fine had left Jack drained. Crutchie glanced at his friend,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Jack, I was thinkin’ I might sleep inside tonight. I don’t feel like sleepin’ on the roof…” Jack’s jaw tightened and he grabbed Crutchie by the arm, pulling him gently away from the group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Ain’t neither of us sleepin’ until we talk.” He bent down, “An’ the best place ta talk is up on the roof. So get on, if you still wanna sleep inside when we’re done then I’ll take ya back down, I promise.” Crutchie reluctantly climbed on his friend’s back and the two made their way up the fire escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning over to let the boy off, Jack stood up and walked to the other end of the roof, staring out for a moment over the city before turning back brusquely. “Alright. What’s eating ya?” His voice softened vulnerably as the boy hesitated for a moment “You gotta talk to me Crutchie. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crutchie didn’t answer for a long moment, limping over to the rail and staring as Jack had, over the city before speaking in a low voice, so quietly Jack barely caught the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “You ever wonder how I got this bum leg?” Jack was taken off guard,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Well--uh--I thought--I thought you was born--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Yeh,” Crutchie interrupted, “you thought I was born with it. I wasn’t.” Jack shifted uncomfortably in the silence before Crutchie spoke again seeming to have suddenly changed the subject, </span>
  <span>“I never knew my Ma. She died after havin’ my sister.” Jack sucked in a breath,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Sister?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Minnie. We was best friends. People said we looked like twins only she smiled more. My Da looked after us when we was little, if what he did can be called ‘lookin’ after’ anyone. He came home some nights and ignored us. Those were the really lucky nights. Some night’s he’d come home on the back of one of his friends, who’d dump him, passed out, on the floor after drinkin’ the whole evenin’, exactly how you came back last night. But some nights he wouldn’t have had enough to put him out completely and those were the bad nights. He’d come home an’ yell, an’ throw things, an’ hit us. I tried to hide Minnie most of those times and he wouldn’t notice as long as he could hit me.” Jack’s face was twisted into an expression of horror as he listened to his friend’s story. Crutchie was still leaning on the rail, looking over the city as he continued quietly, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “One night, I was nine, he was ‘specially angry. I dunno why, maybe he was losing at gambling, maybe there wasn’t a reason at all, but he was like a lion. I don’t really remember exactly how it happened but somehow he grabbed hold of my leg an’ I could smell the liquor on his breath as he twisted it. I guess I screamed real loud which scared Minnie because I ain’t never screamed like that before when he hit me. She came out of her hidin’ spot an’ threw herself on me, tryin’ to help me somehow I guess. Da didn’t like that and he grabbed her. I couldn’t see exactly what he was doin’ but I heard her screamin’ then suddenly she wasn’t. I don’t remember anythin’ for a while an’ I musta passed out from the pain in my leg but when I woke up he was lyin’ on the floor, out cold. I dragged myself over to Minnie in the corner and saw right away that she wouldn’t be with me no more. He’d kilt her. I knew I couldn’t stay with him no more after that an’ I ran away as soon’s I could.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crutchie’s voice was just as soft as when he had first begun the story and for the first time he turned toward Jack, his expression unreadable,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “I can’t stay with anyone who might do somethin’ like that again.” He turned away again and silence hung in the air for a minute or so, broken only by the regular noises of the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s knuckles were white as he clenched the railing, the only thing revealing the deep hurt that had stabbed through him as the words of his friend echoed through his mind,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Some night’s he’d come home on the back of one of his friends, who’d dump him, passed out, on the floor after drinkin’ the whole evenin’, exactly how you came back last night...he’d kilt her...I can’t stay with anyone who might do somethin’ like that again”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A slight clanging sound brought him back to the present and he turned sharply to see Crutchie on the staircase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Whatdya doin’?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Goin’ down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Crutchie--”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Jack.” Crutchie’s voice was low, “I don’t wanna sleep up here tonight. You said you’d take me down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, deliberately Jack unclenched his hands from the railing and went over to his friend, kneeling down and allowing the boy to get on his back. Without a word, the two descended the fire escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s step was heavy as he reascended the stairs, free from the burden of Crutchie on his back, a burden he would have given anything to have back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivering slightly in the chill of the night air, he knelt, stone-faced, lips pressed tightly together, to retrieve a piece of blank newsprint and a charcoal pencil. He sat down, back pressed uncomfortably against the rails guarding the edge and knees drawn up. With a sudden, strangled sob, his head fell onto his knees and his body shook with silent misery. For over half an hour he sat, Crutchie’s words flying around and around his mind, ...</span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly how you came back...he’d kilt her….I can’t stay...exactly how you came back...he’d kilt her...I can’t stay…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as he laid down in an attempt to sleep, the shock of learning of Crutchie’s sister sent his mind reeling, and he wondered whether he had ever known Crutchie in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Minnie. We was best friends. People said we looked like twins only she smiled more… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A sweet face came into his mind’s eye, Crutchie, but not quite Crutchie. The face was younger, more feminine and her cheeks were dimpled into the smile that crossed Crutchie’s face so often. Jack lifted his head and clutched hold of the newsprint and pencil. Leaning feverishly over the paper he began tracing delicate lines that formed, ever so carefully, into a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not until the next evening that Jack got a chance to talk with his friend as Crutchie limped home with Specs toward The Good Samaritan. His chest tightening slightly at the sight, with gratitude that the other newsies took care of his friend, but also with hurt that Specs walked alongside and not he. He slipped out of the alleyway in front of them,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Specs. Mind if I take your place for a few minutes?” The boy gave him a curious look but nodded and jogged up the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Jack, I--” Jack waved away Crutchie’s words,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Relax, I ain’t forcin’ anything. I just wanted to give you somethin’.” He handed the boy the piece of newsprint, then turned away, biting his lip nervously. He could hear the crinkling paper as the boy unfolded the sketch and then his friend’s quiet gasp,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Minnie!” There was silence for a long moment. Jack turned slowly and faced his friend, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders as Crutchie tightly clutched the paper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s voice was low as he spoke, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “I swear on my life Crutchie, I won’t hurt you. I shoulda listened when you told me not to go an’ I didn’t but I’m listening now. I won’t ever drink again, I swear that to you.” Jack looked straight into his friend’s eyes, “Can you forgive me?” Crutchie looked up at his friend for a long moment, tears swimming in his clear blue eyes. His voice almost a whisper he answered,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the words left his mouth, he suddenly began sobbing uncontrollably, almost falling onto his friend. His head dropped onto Jack’s chest, the tears flowing freely. Tears for the sister he had never mourned, tears for the injury that had crippled him for life, tears for the disappointment in his friend and the relief of his promise and forgiveness, tears for every time he had ever held them back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack held the boy close, his own tears coming dangerously close to dropping onto the boy’s head. The realization hit him suddenly: he had never once seen the young boy cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For several minutes they embraced, as Crutchie’s sobs were the only sound that broke the silence in the quiet alley. As the boy quieted down, Jack gently lifted and carried him home,  laying him down in his normal spot on the rooftop and covering him with a blanket. For half an hour the two were silent until, quietly, Crutchie whispered,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Jack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>   “Can you tell me about Santa Fe?” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap!!! I think that I will probably post some of the stories as shorter one-shots just because they kind of work as that as well and sometimes one-shots are easier to read, but this is my entire fanfiction in one place. I hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave me a comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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